I Am the Better Man
by ohnojenny
Summary: After the lab knows about Sara's absence, everyone tries to comfort Grissom... except for Greg, who is feeling pain more than anyone knows. The CSI team takes notice of Greg's behavior after he's injured at a scene, both emotionally and physically. Sandle
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is © Anthony E Zuiker/CBS. None of these characters belong to me. One instance in this chapter is from the series, episode "You Kill Me;" everything else is a play-off. Whatever happens besides is coincidental. Enjoy:

I Am the Better Man

Chapter 1

"Did you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"Sara left."

I turned away from my locker for a second and looked at Nick, processing what he had just said and the look on his face as he looked up at me from the bench. I loosened up and gave a small chuckle, looking back inside my locker and taking off my jacket. Nick, Nick, Nick… always trying to tease me. Why must you torture me so?

"Haha, good one, Nick – "

"I'm serious, Greg."

I looked at him again. The way he was talking was extremely serious and subdued; I could barely believe it was him. If I didn't know he was there, I would have thought he was my boss or something. The smile on my face had disappeared. An uncomfortable silence seemed to have made itself comfortable in between Nick and I, stuck. Not sure how long it lasted, but I didn't like it's company.

"You're not… you can't be serious…" I closed my locker slowly, my gaze still on Nick. He pursed his lips, as he usually does when he's sure of things, and started working on tying his shoes on the bench.

"Yeah, needed time away I heard… she was really stressed out. I can understand. After that case with Hannah and Marlon… it was hell the first time, but to see them again? It's a wonder I'm still here, with everything you get out of this job." Nick finished with his left foot, set it down on the floor and raised his right foot onto the bench, working on those laces now.

"She was stressed out…" I repeated those words to myself, more than a thousand times it seems in my head. I sat down slowly on the bench next to Nick, staring at the locker in front of me. I stared at the scratches on it, I could barely make out a butterfly… "Why didn't she tell me?"

"She didn't tell me," Nick answered, making a content face at his shoes. I turned my head to face him, a little confused.

"Then who told you?"

"Catherine." Catherine seems like the sort of person Sara would tell… but at the same time she doesn't. I asked again to make sure:

"And who told her?"

"Grissom."

Grissom. I paused, hoping in my head Warrick had told Grissom about Sara's departure. Or even Hodges. Just not directly to Grissom… "Who told Grissom?"

"Sara wrote him a letter. Apparently it was…" I didn't hear much after that. My heart plunged. Never felt so hard to swallow my own spit. Of course I knew about Sara's relationship with Grissom – the whole lab knew! Doesn't mean I was hunky-dory with it. I was kinda-sorta happy because I thought Sara was happy, and that's all that mattered to me. That she was happy. But to find out that she had left because she was stressed, needed time away, that she wasn't happy. That hurt… that hurt a lot. And what made it worse was that Grissom didn't do anything to comfort her. With all the extra time together, you'd think Sara's emotions would get through his thick head. If I were Grissom, I would have found a way to prevent her from leaving, prevent her from even thinking about leaving. If I were Grissom… I'd be better. For her.

But was I really the better man? I like to tell myself that. Yet with Sara's choice… I can't help but question it.

And then I heard Nick's voice again, "… we should go comfort Grissom."

"Huh?"  
"You know… take him out to eat or something. He must be real hurt."

"Hurt?" Was this person Nick I was talking to? The guy that knew I had feelings for Sara from the get-go? Who teased me for such feelings? But here he is, telling me we should comfort some other guy? Boy did my blood start to boil.

Unfortunately, I didn't know how to leave casually without seeming like an ass, so I said, "... I think I hear the kettle calling. Blue Hawaiian… can't waste that."

"I don't hear anything – "

"That's because it's calling to me and me only…"

"Yeah, see you around, Greg." Fortunately, I don't think he got it.

I got to the break room and decided a cup of coffee wouldn't be such a bad idea. I pulled up a chair and slouched in it, leaning over my elbows on the table, playing with my fingers. Porn wasn't of my best interest at the moment: I was trying to figure out why Sara didn't tell me that she'd left…

As I pondered over my grief, Catherine came into the room.

"Hey Greg."

"Hey Catherine. What's up?"

"Ah… long day."

"Sure is…" I sighed, inconspicuously I hoped; I didn't really want to talk to anyone at the moment. She didn't respond, so I thought she'd leave soon, but I guess I shouldn't assume. She sat in the chair next to me. I could feel her eyes on my face averting hers. I realized how odd I looked just sitting there, hunched over in my chair over… nothing. Or, nothing she could see, which is why I guess she started to talk again, "You all right?"

"Yeah! Yeah. I'm all right." Even that much was a lie.

"Listen, I don't know if you've heard, but…" she trailed off, looking around through the windowed-walls of the room. Wonder who she was looking out for? I perked up a little, hoping for some lab gossip, or a hot case.

"Buuuuut…?"

"But Sara's gone, and – "

"Oh, yeah…" I slouched again. I should have known, "horrible, isn't it?" I looked at Catherine in the eyes, then down to my hands on the table, "The lab just doesn't feel the same."

"It really doesn't." she stood up at the sound of a bell, indicating the coffee was ready. I grinned, maybe someone was actually going to comfort me! ME! And of all people, Catherine! Who would have thought?

She brought a mug of the lovely, aromatic, Blue Hawaiian goodness to the table. Oh Catherine, you shouldn't have, you brought the coffee to me!

And then she killed me, "Someone needs to talk to Grissom. Calm him down a bit."

Dammit! Why? Why Catherine, why? I thought you had something for a second.

"What's wrong with him?" I answered, irritably. She gave me a baffled look, and I returned it. Maybe she'd restate her statement.

"Are you sure there's nothing wrong with you?" Of course there's something wrong with me. My heart aches! How can you not tell?

"I'm… a bit upset is all."

"Oh, Greg… we're all upset." What's this? A little acknowledgement? Oh, do go on! "But don't worry… we'll make it through. It's just Grissom needs the most help now, I think."

"Why?" I snapped. I should feel bad… but I don't.

"Where have you been? He's suffering from heartache."

Oh, my heart! How you ache! What? What's that? Suffering for more than a year, and you're still not recognized? Poor you. Life isn't fair.

"Oh, there he is!" and with a sip of MY coffee, Catherine scurried away. I looked down at the mug. At least I almost thought it was for me.

But I don't get it; I honestly don't get it. For people who solve crimes for a living, looking for clues and the subtleties in life, I'm surprised these people are still employed. I crushed on Sara back then. When I felt things were getting a little intimate between her and Grissom, I still felt the same way for her, if not it grew stronger. When it was official something was going on between her and Grissom, sure I felt bad… but my affection for her never disappeared.

I looked at my reflection in the coffee and sighed deeply.

"No one understands you, Sanders. It's a real shame…"

Then Catherine came back.

"What's a real shame?"

Tell her. Tell her how you feel about this whole matter. How furious you are; how irritated you are; how terribly your heart aches. Make her and everyone else realize their wrongs.

"Nothing." Idiot. Why'd I say that?

"Oh… okay. You sure?"

No. No. I'm not sure. I mean I am sure. I am sure there is something shameful in how

am being treated. I am sure!

"Yes!"

"Well, that's good. We don't need any more touchy people right now."

Sanders, you messed it up again! I AM one of those "touchy people" right now! Oh… just forget it… this will all blow away soon enough. No need to make people feel like you're insane. Just change the subject. Ask how Grissom is doing. You don't have to say his name.

"That was quick."

"What was quick?"

Don't say his name.

"What you just went to do."

"Greg, I did a lot of things in the past couple minutes."

Really? How?

"Did you?"

"Yes."

Don't say his name.

"I mean… that thing you had to do… urgently… the urgent thing." Catherine's face showed that of realization. I grinned at my cunning. She understood!

"… did Lindsey call?"

No! She didn't understand! Now you're getting her scared. Ah, for heaven's sake…

"No… Grissom."

"Oh, well, it's going to take a lot of time for him to deal…"

"… time?"

"… yes. As do all love-related issues."

Wow, did I feel like yelling into a pillow. I must've had the most blank expression on my face, save for a pained smile. After holding her gaze for a few long seconds, I stood up and left. I even left my coffee. Without a word. Gone. Woosh. Disappeared! Just like how everyone feels my emotions towards Sara have done. God, I can't stand all this ignorance! I just need to get home, away from all these people.

I rounded the corner, pretty damn flustered, and wouldn't you know who just happened to be approaching me? Hope he doesn't talk to me, doesn't say a word to me. Don't even acknowledge that he's there, Greg Sanders. Just ignore him…

"G'night, Greg."

Damn, I looked. He spoke to me. Say something sharp, Greg. Retaliate. Show him how much of a better man you are than he is. Make him regret the day he ever took Sara away from you.

"Yeah, whatever…"

… smooth, Greg. Smooth.


	2. Chapter 2

A.N.: From this chapter on will be about my take on how Greg acts after the episode "You Kill Me." Even after the airing of CSI's next new episode, I will continue this story. Do enjoy, and critiques are more than welcome.

Chapter 2

I returned to work the next day after a restless day's sleep. I still felt irritable, but I accepted the fact that no one could tell I was hurt. What else could I do? A real man wouldn't sit around, waiting for people to feel sorry for him. I'm thinking this only makes me stronger, able to withstand other people's ignorance. That way, you don't expect anything to happen; and if something does end up happening, cope with it naturally. Nothing worse than a fake image, and I know I'm not fake.

So, in wanting to keep this real image, I kept my hair the way it was found when I rolled out of bed this morning. Doesn't look bad or anything. In fact, it looks like a 'do I'd normally carry. Despite that being said, I attracted many eyes from my fellow co-workers as I meandered the lab. The stares might not have been due to my hair, but to me talking to myself.

"And to our right we see the locker room, interestingly enough co-ed. Very different than how I remember it being in high school… first stop: my locker." Narrating is fun. It was helping me keep my mind off of… other things.

And my mind was kept off of those "other things" for a good while. I must admit, I had quite a dashing smile on my face.

"Next stop: break room for case assignments!" I swung the door shut and started to make my way out of the locker room, when I found my path was obstructed by no other than Grissom himself.

Yeah. My dashing smile flew the coup.

"Hello Greg."

'Yeah, whatever.' I was about to say that again, but I didn't let that happen. No, instead I did something better: I didn't respond at all. Doesn't mean I left – I just didn't say anything. But then again, I guess I wasn't making a good impression by standing with my mouth agape either, so I pulled myself together, straightened up, licked my lips and looked him right in the eye.

"Grissom. Hey…" Oh yeah, SO much better than before, "I was just about to see you."

"Yeah?" Grissom stepped inside the locker room and stood in front of me, his clipboard held tightly to his chest. It seems he carries that thing everywhere.

"Yeah…" Stay calm, Sanders. Don't explode on him, "you know, for our case assignments."

"Oh." Did I disappoint him? I should ask.

"I do get a case today, don't I?" Or are you going to take that away from me, too?

"Of course. Listen, Greg –"

"Hey Grissom!" Nick! Thank you Nick! Grissom turned to face Nick, who was standing in the doorway. I tip toed over Grissom's shoulder to see Nick, and furrowed my eyebrows at the bouquet in his hands.

"Nick." Grissom answered after a moment of silence. Nick stepped forward with a large smile on his face and gestured the flowers towards Grissom. Was this true? Could I believe what I was seeing?

"Gris, these are for you. Thought they might liven up your office with some, you know, color. Nothing like color to brighten up your day!"

I couldn't help myself. I broke out in hysterical laughter. I should be upset, shouldn't I? That those flowers weren't for me, but for Grissom. I knew why they were for Grissom, the actual reason behind it, but it was way too funny. The look on Grissom's face, the determination on Nick's face to hand the flowers off, roses! – all too funny.

"Nick, thank you…" Grissom took the flowers slowly and sniffed them a couple times.

"Hahaha! Ooh, nothing like a few dead flowers to 'liven up' the mood, eh? Haha! See you guys in the break room!" And off I went, leaving the two baffled, and probably in an awkward situation. All I know is I passed Warrick on the way out of the locker room, who paused at the doorway looking from the flowers, to Grissom, then to Nick.

"… wait for me, Greg…" he said as he changed his mind, jogging up to me. I didn't stop walking, but didn't ignore his presence with me, "It's been crazy here lately, hasn't it?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Well… what with Nick giving Grissom flowers and everything. Hodges, apparently, is making a board game. Did you hear about that?"

Interesting. Hodges, a trace-geek who just might have it in for me (more than "just might," actually), made a board game! I should try that… might be fun.

"Hodges? A board game? Why… no. That's interesting. What's it about?"

"It's like Clue, but pertains to what we do in and out of the lab. It's called 'Lab Rats.'"

"'Lab Rats,' huh? Sounds very interesting… could bring me back to the good old days."

"Being cooped up in the lab? You miss being a techie, Greg?"

"In some ways…" we reached the break room and grabbed ourselves a couple of chairs. Warrick leaned back in his chair, trying to figure out how I could possibly miss being a lab geek.

"How so?"

"Well… for one thing –"

I can never finish explaining my feelings, I've noticed. At that point Catherine walked in with Nick and Grissom, who was still carrying his lovely bouquet from Nick. Catherine and Nick sat down with a few final words of a conversation about free time and plans. Didn't know what they meant by that, and quite frankly, I didn't care. I just wanted my case.

"Catherine," the "big guy" started, handing a file to her, "you'll be handling a case with Warrick, just in from the strip: a hit and run. Nick, Greg and I are going to investigate an alleged murder of two newly weds. Brass is waiting for us there."

A murder, all right! So long as I'm not the one told to do all the dirty, tedious work, I'll be fine - if that much at all. Once Catherine and Warrick left the room, I realized then with whom I was working with. Shouldn't matter much, since technically the case is divided up between the three of us, and I'm not forced to converse…

"Coming Greggo?" Nick teased, already out the door. Grissom was still standing there. He was staring at me. I stared at him. Even though neither of us said a single word, he knew I was upset, and I knew he knew. I think he also knew why I was edgy, although I really shouldn't assume.

I stood up and left the room without looking at Grissom, following Nick. I know I'm not forced to converse with him, but I can only delay it for so long.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Driving to the crime scene wasn't a problem; it was the painful silence in the car that was. I insisted that I drive to the scene, so I would have an excuse to keep my focus on the road, and not talk to Grissom. Unfortunately, he insisted on sitting next to me. Nick sat in the back, leaning up occasionally to try to spark a conversation, most likely to "cheer Grissom up." Grissom gave Nick no more than one-worded answers to most of his questions, and I didn't talk at all.

I think he got the hint.

Brass approaches us once we enter the scene, kits ready by our side. He informs us that the murders took place indoors, and starts describing that the scene isn't pretty:

"Blood everywhere: floor, walls, furniture…I wouldn't be surprised if there wasn't any in the kitchen sink; didn't look like our murderer wanted to keep this crime a secret. Problem is, we can't start processing the scene without contaminating it."

"How so?" Grissom asks. I'd think it's obvious: Brass just said blood was everywhere. We'd probably step on the evidence, Grissom. As bitter as my thoughts are, I'm surprised to find my speculation is correct.

"Take a look for yourself…" Brass takes out his flashlight and scans the dark room. Blood spatter was everywhere… except the floor. It was as if a rainstorm blew through with red-dyed water. About a foot away from the doorway stood the husband, I assumed; not too far away did a woman lay, I'm guessing that's the wife, "The two look like they've been brutally stabbed, but there's no verification of that until David inspects them."

"I… suppose I'll start taking photos," as I always do. I don't mind much, I suppose. Beats the dirty work, and right now taking pictures is the most productive thing to do, "The challenge is to get them without being inside…"

I run back to the car with my kit, placing it back in the trunk and taking out my camera. I check the memory card, making sure it's clear, jesting to myself by singing a song by Sir Mixalot, "Oh, baby. I want to get with yah, and take your pict-" which is when I turn around to find Nick smiling at me, "uuh."

"Having fun, Greggo?"

"I haven't started taking pictures yet…" I begin to walk off towards the house, Nick walking by my side, "What're you going to do?"

"Reach for things after you've taken pictures. Can't step in the house, but I still have to collect what can possibly be evidence."

"Have fun with that!" I squat just behind the doorway, taking a picture on the appearance of the room. I can feel Nick's eyes burning holes in the back of my head. It was only an assumption, but I must be on a roll! I'm right again.

"Hey Greg, you all right? You've been acting different lately."

"Oh really?" I sighed. Maybe he is noticing something, "How different?"

"You've just been… well, not yourself."

"I am very much myself, Nick." I snap another picture as I snap at him, moving around the building to attempt taking photos through the windows. I didn't mean to snap at him, but I feel it's necessary for people to know I can't be "jumpy" all the time. The word fits the description on how people perceive me in the lab, anyway. Nick met me at the window.

"Yeah? Well… this must be a side I've never seen before."

"Must be." Snap.

"What happened to you?"

"I don't know," I look up at him briefly, right in the eyes. I can tell he's curious, "Why don't you ask Grissom?" And with that I left him speechless, returning back to my job of taking pictures of the scene.

By the time David finally came along, I had taken all the pictures I possibly could without walking inside and was helping Nick reach for a fiber swimming in the bloody puddle, just out of reach. I look over at David, who looks like he has never seen a dead body before – or maybe it's the pool of blood – and saw in the background Brass interviewing some bystanders; Grissom was swabbing the rest.

"Am I supposed to step inside?" David asks incredulously. I look up at him and shrug.

"We already photographed the scene as best as we could through the doorway and windows because we were waiting for you. What took you so long?"

"Sorry. My wife –"

"Ah. I see." Not sure why I cut him off. I think I'd rather not speak of relationships. Yeah… that must be it. Standing up, I bid farewell, "Have fun, Nick."

"Yeah, thanks Greg," he huffs as he bags yet another blood-soaked object, squinting through the darkness for more. I made my way over to Brass, seeing if I could be of service. I would have made it to him, too, if it wasn't for the amazingly obvious suspect I saw trying to hijack my car.

What's making him so obvious? He's wearing a blood-stained shirt. If only he had tried to hijack my car _before_ I had taken all those pictures.

"Hey… hey YOU!" All right, my time to shine. I drive his attention away from picking at the car door's keyhole, and I'm shocked when I see his face. This guy, who can be charged for spilling so much blood so ruthlessly, cannot be more than seventeen years old.

Right then he makes a run for it. I chase after him; by the sound of Brass shouting not too soon after, I think I got more than the kid's attention. He takes a sharp turn a block and a half down, disappearing. I follow suit, only to face a knife swinging inches away from my face. Quickly, I pull out my gun and aim it at him.

"Put the weapon down!"

He didn't move from his slouched stance. I lick my lips and tense my grip on the gun. I feel a nervous sweat start to bead on my temple. This scene feels all too familiar.

"I said, 'Put the weapon down!'"

His breathing – perceptible from a mile away, I bet – is loud and hoarse. Either that or I can be mistaking it for my own. I can soon hear sirens approaching. Back-up is coming. No. No, I want to prove myself. I want to show this guy, everyone, myself, what I'm capable of handling.

"NOW!"

Before I know it, he lunges at me. Memories impaired my comprehension of the situation. All I can see are his clenched teeth, his cold eyes, and the gleam of the knife coming closer, stronger. I jump backwards, dodging his knife, but not one of our own cars trying to screech to a halt.

Then, ringing in my head, I hear the voice of an angel…

"I came here for you, Greg."


	4. Chapter 4

A.N.: This chapter is a little different than past ones. Trying to improve on my writing style to make the story more enjoyable. I admit, this chapter is longer than the last couple, but the chapters after this will be more fast paced and easier to read, I think. I'm glad you're enjoying it, and giving me criticism as well! I hope you continue to like what you see.

Chapter 4

Pain migrated through my body every time I tried to move, so I stayed still. I remember laying on my back, on the floor, my body as straight as a plank. I couldn't open my eyes, it was so painful. But I remember being hit in the arm, against my side. Why would my eyes hurt so much?

The sound of sirens around me came to a stop. They must have got him. The kid. I hope they got him. If they didn't, my deed would have been all for naught.

I tried to wrinkle my nose, because I felt a sneeze coming. Problem was, I could barely tell if I was actually moving my nose or not. I probably couldn't feel myself smile if I had a reason to. The feeling in my face was barely there. How'd I know it was barely there? Why, I felt a gentle touch on my forehead, through my hair. The touch of an angel…

"Sara…"

She had come back!

"Greg?"

"Sara, you came… from San Francisco…"

She came _back_! She's here! Oh, I could barely believe it!

"San Francisco? Greg, we're in Las Vegas."

"…what?" I grin. Sara, what a joker… Then I felt a hand slap my cheek, "Ow!" I brought up a hand to rub my cheek. That didn't feel like something Sara would do…

Then I came into realization: My face wasn't swollen, I could feel just fine. I didn't smell that special scent. Afraid of what I would see, I hesitantly opened my eyes; they didn't hurt at all, but opened normally. My vision was blurry at first; I think I might have been sleeping for some time. My eyes wandered my surroundings: I wasn't outside anymore. I wasn't on the floor. I was in a hospital room under the covers.

You'd think I would have been happy, being alive and well, but I haven't felt more hurt in my life. I turned my head towards the chair to my right and didn't see the angel I thought was talking to me. No, I saw Catherine sitting beside me. Not that Catherine is the devil – I just was expecting someone else…

There was a shocked and angry look on her face directed towards Nick, slapping at his wrist. Nick shrugged and was the first to notice I could see them all.

"Greg! How're you feeling?"

"Fine, uuh… what happened?" I sat up in the bed, feeling a slight pain in my right arm. Just perfect, the hand I write with might have to be in a sling for precautious measures. Apparently, Nick saw what happened: a cop car was preparing to round the corner when I had leapt backwards into the street. Fortunately, the cop was braking for a tighter turn anyway, so the impact wasn't as bad as it could have been.

"I had the wind knocked out of me?" I exclaimed in disbelief, "That was it?"

Catherine and Nick exchanged glances with confused faces, Catherine's mouth agape slightly. She looked back at me and took a moment to prepare her statement.

"You passed out, Greg…"

"Yeah, yeah… but, I mean… did Grissom see?" That would be something. Grissom could see me take a hard one for the team. Being hit by a car during a case has got to mean something. By the look on their faces, my enthusiasm must have confused them even more.

"Of course Grissom saw. He's interrogating the suspect now with Brass."

"Oh…" I let my gaze drop to my hands above the sheets, twiddling my thumbs for the hell of it. Funny how amusing it could be. I should be questioning that kid. I caught him. I have the right. I knew that Catherine and Nick wouldn't let me go, though. But then I remembered the voice that had brought me great comfort…

"Was… anyone else at the crime scene, Nick? That we knew?" My gaze rose to meet his face. He frowned and shook his head, his hands folded across his chest.

"No, not that I can recall, Greg."

"And, what about here? Any guests?" Nick gave a worried look to Catherine. I think he wanted her to answer the question, but she apparently couldn't find her voice. She turned again to face me in her seat, clearing her throat, starting half a word then stopping herself. The suspense was killing me, "… Cath?"

"…Greg… do you still –" she was stopped by Nick, who leaned down and whispered something in her ear. It irritated me that they were sharing secrets right in front of me, but I couldn't get in on it.

"Uh, hellooo! I'm right here?" Red alert! Red alert! My grouchiness was coming back. Nick straightened up and Catherine smiled at me.

"Do you still want to be in this case?" What kind of question is that? Is that all she wanted to say? I doubt it… I eyed Nick, answering her question.

"Of course I do. This kid isn't getting away from me. It's too obvious he did it."

"Until evidence from trace comes back, we cannot be too sure. We were able to get the bodies out, though; the crime scene couldn't be any more unpolluted, all the data we could possibly need from the floor was obtained. When you were out chasing the kid, they let me walk inside –"

"None of that matters now." Nick was interrupted by Brass, stepping into the room, "The kid confessed. A crime out of the love for his sister, and I don't mean that of siblings. He was jealous and upset that she had 'betrayed' him." He quickly changed gears in tone as he sat at the end of my bed, "How you doing, Greg?"

"Just fine. But is that it? The case is over?"

"Afraid so. Good work, catching the criminal. Taking a hit for the team." He chuckled and patted my knee. I gave a small smile at his remark – at least Brass was considerate, "Why don't we give you some shut-eye?"

"I can leave!" I threw the covers off me and made to hop out. My right arm hurt quite a bit. I looked over at it and saw a bruise the size of Texas reaching along it. There goes wearing short-sleeved shirts for the next few weeks. I was ready to jump out when I saw Grissom walking down the hallway towards us. Right then, I put all my good acting to use and cringed, "AAH. OOH. The _pain!_"

"Greg, you all right?" Catherine's motherly side shined brighter with every passing minute. I gave a pained nod, my eyes shut tightly.

"Oh yeah. I'll be… all right…" I relaxed back under the covers and turned away from the open doorway, "I just need… a little rest is all…"

"Go ahead, you deserve it, buddy." Sounded like Nick that praised me so. I felt the mattress rise slightly as Brass got up from the bed and heard his sharp footsteps against the floor. Catherine left right after with a "sleep well," and Nick was just about to close the door when Grissom met him.

"I would like to talk with Greg, Nick…"

"I'm sorry, but he's going to take a nap." Hah! Foiled again, Grissom. I'm too smart for you.

"What?" I heard Warrick call from outside the room, he sounded flustered, like he had been running. I was trying to visualize the scene in my head, "Did you get to speak with him at all?"

"Yes, I did."

"Just missed him, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did."

"I knew I should have ordered the flowers to his room… I'll just place them by his bedside; he can see them when he wakes up."

"Awfully sweet of you, Warrick!" Nick laughed as I heard Warrick walk inside, a rustle sounding from the nightstand next to my bed. I smiled… aw, Warrick. You didn't have to…

"Yeah, yeah… figured the kid needed some appreciation. You notice he's been different lately?" Warrick stepped back outside.

"You've noticed, too? Oh, and uh… Grissom? What did you do with the flowers I got you?" And Nick's voice was the last I heard before the door closed. I waited a minute or so before I turned over to face the flowers placed on my bedside. I leaned in close and took a sniff: tulips.

Lying on my back, I gazed up at the ceiling, wondering for how much longer I'd allow myself to stay in here just to avoid a confrontation with Grissom. But I didn't want to think about him. No… I wanted to think about what I had witnessed. Or… what I had thought I had witnessed. This past scene must've brought back memories of the first time I had been injured out in the field, with a bunch of "fannysmackers." I must have taken the aftermath of that beating, and incorporated it with my current injury, because it included pain. But it didn't have that special scent that I'd be able to recognize anywhere…

That special scent that brought me comfort…

That I needed so badly…

That Sidle scent…


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Found myself more comfortable in that room than I had thought; I spent the day there asleep, my biological clock waking me up around the time I usually get up for work. When I woke up, I found a buffet of food accompanying the flowers Warrick had brought me. I grinned at the sight of it all. The gang must know that the way to my heart is through my stomach. I sat up, my arm feeling significantly better, and picked up a box of chocolates first. I found a card – with at least five stamps – attached to it; and on the envelope, it read: Greg. Plain and simple, didn't really expect anymore from the guys. I opened the envelope up and took out the card, beginning to read the typed letter:

_Dear Greg,_

_Once I heard about what happened to you, I made sure I put as many stamps as necessary to get this letter to you as soon as possible. It's horrible what happened to you, and it's hurting me more than you know to be informed of it, of being unable to help you. I was never really an insensitive person when it came to my friends, and I think you of all people know that. Thusly, you must know how useless I feel._

_In an attempt to impose my presence onto you, I ordered a box of chocolates to be sent to your room. I know you love to eat, and chocolate is no exception to your menu… or at least I hope. In case it was, I also had a healthy assortment of fruits sent to your room. I know it's not much… but it's all I can do right now._

_In case you're wondering, I'm safe in San Francisco _

I stopped reading there. I couldn't believe what I was reading! Is Sara really sending me a letter? Oh, this is too good to be true! Inhaling deeply, I continued reading starting from the beginning of the paragraph… just to make sure:

_In case you're wondering, I'm safe in San Francisco visiting my mother. I'm missing the crew dearly, and you are no exception, Greg. If anything, I'm sorry I left… but I needed a break, a break from everything: the hate, lies, and drama in other peoples' lives. I got so worked up with other peoples' lives that I forgot about my own for a moment, and my life became their's to control… and I couldn't have that, Greg. I need to be able to control my own life._

_I don't know when I'll be back, or if I'll ever be back. _

_I wish you well. Remember to keep smiling; it's what helps keeps us sane._

_Your Friend,_

_Sara_

Wow… it's amazing how much better I felt. I felt like I could run a mile! No… ten! A hundred! A _thousand!_ I could run any amount after reading that letter. It's so relieving to know that Sara is capable of talking to me… and that she even remembers me. I only wish she had hand written this letter so I could study every curve and angle in her letters…

I opened the box of chocolates and stared at the selection. Didn't matter which square I picked: they'd all taste good. Even if it were a defect – it would still taste delicious. But I decided against taking one and closed the box, figuring it would be better to savor these and only eat one when I needed extra comfort. Besides… chocolates lasted longer than ripe fruit.

Stepping out of bed, I snatched an apple from the basket, carried the box of chocolates under my arm, picked up the flowers with that same hand and found my clothes neatly folded in a bag by the door. Picking them up, I skipped out of the hospital room in my lovely blue gown, taking an occasional bite out of the apple.

The nurse was a little skeptical in believing I was fine and ready to leave; she nearly dragged me back to my room. Finally, I convinced her to let me go if I let her wrap my arm in bandages – I felt that was useless because it felt fine, and I'm not sure what the bandages would do, but whatever it took to leave.

All I knew was I was on my way to work, and not even Grissom could bring my mood down.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I must say, I caused quite a riot when I returned to the lab that day. I think people thought I was insane, just like that nurse did, because I was walking around freely in the blue gown the hospital gave me. I could not feel more ecstatic! Just the fact that Sara had sent me a letter… now I'm even with Grissom! I bet he hasn't been receiving more letters from her. Sure, they might have been emailing… or talking on the phone… or using telepathy…

But I didn't care! Nothing could bring me down now.

I skipped through the hallways of the lab, whistling a tune on the spot, looking for the gang to share my happiness with. Or… maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I should be greedy, and keep Sara's letter all to myself. I should have used the time to get to the break room to think, but by the time I thought of that idea I was there, and so was everyone else.

"Hey guys!" I beamed. I guess I startled them, because they all jumped at the sound of my voice. Nick, Catherine and Warrick must've been sharing some hot gossip, and reacted that way because I was Grissom. This thought made me smile wider, "What I miss?"

"Greg!" Catherine grinned, her eyes a little shaky as she wrung her wrists nervously, "Back so soon?"

"Of course! Didn't think I'd let myself stay in there for long, did you?" I had the biggest smile on my face! – answered with their gaping looks again. Uhm… guys? You're looking at me as if I were Grissom intruding on your gossiping.

"It's great you're back Greg!" Nick stepped forward and gave me a hug. I looked over at Warrick, who looked like he was ashamed of something, "Lab doesn't feel the same without you!"

"Thanks, Nick." I patted him on the back and stepped away, "Hey guys, you'll never believe it! It's – well, guess!"

"Does it have something to do with your… gown?" Catherine looked like she was easing up, "Lovely color, Greg."

"Oh, haha, nah… but it happened in the hospital! I woke up, and I saw – oh, I saw the flowers you got me, Warrick!" I shook the flowers in my hand, giving them another sniff, "Thanks, they're great. But what really got me surprised was a letter I received!" I don't think my enthusiasm was getting through to everyone. Can't say I didn't try to share!

"That's great that you got a letter, Greg –" Warrick answered me finally. He didn't sound happy in the least.

"Yeah, a letter from Sara!" I pulled it out and waved it in front of me, "Isn't this great?"

Catherine and Nick were beaming at me, looking at each other. Warrick was still unhappy, looking at the other two through the corner of his eyes.

"I'm happy for you Greg," he said, "Really…" he walked past me at that point, patting me on the shoulder, "I am." And then he left. I watched him disappear down the hall, then turned back to Catherine and Nick. Warrick was acting pretty odd.

"Hey, is Warrick okay?"

"Yeah! Yeah." The two answered me in unison. They looked at each other and then down to the floor. It was Nick who first looked up, "What did Sara tell you?"

"Well, she told me that she was doing fine in San Francisco, and that she was worried about me – hey…" I lowered the letter and thought for a little bit, "Who told Sara about my condition?"

"Him."

"Her."

They spoke in unison again. I laughed at them.

"I didn't tell Sara, Cath… I thought it was you…?"

"It wasn't me, I thought it was you…"

"Greg! Welcome back to the lab!" Right then Hodges walked in to stand next to me, "How you feeling?"

"Hodges!" Nick and Catherine yelled – in unison – again. What is it, Nick and Catherine day? At first it was funny, now it's just weird… I looked over at Hodges, and he seemed pretty weirded out, too.

"I know that I'm a very admirable person, but I didn't know I had a groupie starting," Hodges said ever so casually. This guy… sometimes, he is just way too full of himself.

"Hodges told Sara, Greg," Catherine grinned, "I remember all too well, now."

"Yeah, I do too…" Nick joined in on the moment of realization.

"Really, Hodges?" I turned to him in disbelief. I was thankful, but I couldn't believe it. Hodges? The guy that butt heads with me every once in a while? Hodges… wow.

"Well, no, I –"

"Ooh, don't be so humble, Hodges!" Nick came over and pat Hodges on the shoulder, "You're such a good man…" and Nick left. Catherine ran after him, with a quick "good job" to Hodges.

"Hodges… wow! That's incredible, I didn't think you'd do such a thing for me." and then I gave him a hug. Me. I actually gave Hodges a hug. He wasn't such a good hugger, though. He was very stiff; I think he was caught up in his own deed, "I didn't think you could do it, either…" I pulled away from him, "Tell me… how'd you get a hold of Sara?"

"Greg… I think there's something you should know – "

And then Grissom came, accompanied with his clipboard.

"Greg! You're back." He sounded awfully happy. I didn't dig into his supposed feelings at the moment, because I was still over the top with happiness!

"Grissom! Hey, how's it going? Ready for a busy day at work!"

"Glad you are, Greg. If you don't mind, though, you'll be staying in the lab for this week. Just a precaution… nothing against you." He smiled and unclipped a small plastic bag from his clipboard, "here's a partial I would like for you to find a match for." Giving the bag to me, which I had some trouble trying to hold due to my load, he then saluted before he continued on his path, turning around while walking backwards a second later to tell me the following, "When you find the time, Greg, I want to talk to you. Just stop by my office any time you like. Oh, and by the way, Hodges has a fun crime solving game… think you should try it out." And then he rounded a corner and left.

Grissom didn't have an effect on my mood at all, it seems, because I turned to Hodges still quite happy, "So…" I started, "How about I find a match to this print and then we play your game?"

"Of course, Greg…" he gave his usual Hodges nod and smile, "But first, change out of that gown…"

"Gotcha."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Grissom!" Now dressed in my usual attire – dress shirt and slacks – I decided to rush my results to Grissom. The sooner I get the results to him, the sooner I can bug Hodges to play his game, right? "Partial matched an ex-convict by the name of Raulph Collens. Served time for unarmed theft, and –" I peered around Grissom's office; it contained the usual dimness, pack-ratted with jars containing bugs, human body parts, and occasionally nothing, "… you're not here."

I sighed; I was actually disappointed not to see Grissom. I stood there, thinking of what to do. Supposedly, the smartest thing to do would be to wait for him to return… but what if I was able to find him faster by looking? Then I heard my name being said.

I wheeled around on my heel with a renewed grin, expecting to see Grissom, but he wasn't there. Instead, further down the hall I saw Warrick, Nick and Catherine. They were in a heated conversation of some sort, because the looks on their faces weren't the most jubilant ones I've seen. It seemed like Warrick was the one coming to disagree with the other two.

There! I heard my name again. One of them said my name.

… were they mad at me? Did I do something wrong? My smiled was gone at this point, and I found myself inching closer to them slowly. By the time I had realized I moved, I was about a yard away from them.

"Hey guys…" I interrupted lowly. They jumped again to hear my voice; what was this? "What's… going on?"

Nick was the first to grin, and responded to me without giving my heart a chance to beat, "Ah, nothing buddy… just having a little argument over where we were going to eat."

"While saying my name?"

"Yeah, about that… we were wondering if you'd like to come. We're unsure if you're up to going out or not…" Nick cleared his throat. Even though he sounded casual, he looked nervous. I glanced over at Warrick and Catherine on either side of him.

"Uuh… I'll think about it."

"You do that." Warrick broke in kindly, but casting a dark look upon Nick and Catherine, "I should be going. I have a few things to test for DNA… excuse me." and he left. Warrick has been acting odd lately, and I can't quite put my finger on why. I looked at the other two, pointing weakly towards the direction Warrick left to, but before I could say a word Catherine starting speaking:

"Warrick must be having a bad day…"

"More than a bad day, I think." I couldn't help but laugh a little at her naivety on the subject, "Sounds as though you guys pissed him off." I must have hit the nail on the head, because Nick and Catherine didn't respond right away – or at least not in words. Catherine had her mouth agape, wanting to say something, but in loss of words looked towards Nick, who then looked at me and tried to say something, but could only feign a smile and chuckle, "… what did you guys do to him?"

"They didn't do anything to me, Greg!" I turned my head at the sound of Warrick yelling from somewhere I couldn't see him. The whole situation was awkward, and frankly started to creep me out. I nodded and bid the gaping duo adieu.

I walked back towards Grissom's office, not expecting him to be there, so I nearly walked past it. If I hadn't glimpsed inside as I strode by, I would have missed my chance to give him the info.

"Thank you, Greg," he said as he looked at the file I handed him, along with the partial, through his glasses.

"You're welcome, Grissom," I nodded and swung around to leave, but Grissom caught me.

"Ready to talk yet?"

I turned back around and shook my head, "No, I have a game with Hodges!" I grinned at the thought of playing a game in the lab, and being allowed to by my own boss. I skipped out of his office and strode down the hall in search of Hodges.

"Oh where oh where has our Hodges gone…" I peaked in one room. He wasn't there, "Oh where oh where can he be…?" I opened a door. No Hodges, "With his hair so short and his nose so long –"

"I heard that…" a muffled voice that sounded like a whole lot like Hodges grumbled. I stopped walking and looked around. I was in the bathroom at this point, so I figured he was in one of the stalls. I walked by each of them, knocking on them one by one.

"That you, Hodges?"

"Yes-ss…" he sounded a bit pained. I rather not think too hard about it. I found the stall he was in and talked to the door.

"I'm ready for your game."

"Meet me in the break room… give me a minute."

"You got it, Hodges." I didn't want to stick around and wait for him, only girls do that. I left and made my way towards the break room.

Hodges was taking so long in the bathroom I decided to make myself a lovely cup of Blue Hawaiian. I relished in the intoxicating smell of it, letting the aroma swim through and warm my body. I sighed. I haven't felt more relaxed in a long time… I pulled out the letter Sara had written me and reread it again – for the umpteenth time. It was as if I was reading a new letter each time. If only she had handwritten it…

"Sorry about the wait, Greg," Hodges walked in, brandishing a long, rectangular box I assumed to be his game, "I misplaced the game."

"Is this before or after I found you in the bathroom?"

"That matters not now…" Hodges cleared his throat as he sat down across from me. His eyes fell upon the letter on the table and worked their way up to my face, "Is that your letter?"

"Yeah… listen, Hodges. I can't thank you enough for getting Sara to write me a letter."

"About that…"

"I mean, I have to admit I haven't been the jolliest person after her leave –"

"Why don't we get started with the game?" Hodges said hastily. I paused and took a sip of my coffee. Someone's pushy…

"All right. How do you play?"


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Hey everyone. I don't usually do these notes, but I need to apologize for the unusual gap between this update and my last. To keep it simple, I'll say this much: someone I was close to is enjoying afterlife.

On a happier note, I would like to thank everyone that has been with me from the start, and those who have joined along the way. I hope this fic doesn't disappoint. It's still a few-many chapters from being over, and then after that we'll have a part two…

Do enjoy, and thanks again.

Chapter 8

After Hodges had explained to me the basic rules of the game, how the game works, and how you win, I figured I'd have this game in a bag. I mean, who better at solving mysteries than someone who does it for a living? Except for… maybe… my coworkers. They haven't been good in figuring things out lately until it's been out there for a while. Hm.

"All right! So… hit me up with a problem," I said, picking up a game piece; it kind of looked like Wendy. I read the words on the bottom and hastily put it down, better not pick that one.

"Okay…" Hodges looks at me and pauses for a long time; meanwhile, I'm still picking my game piece, "Do understand that this game is still in its beginning stages… it's not perfect."

"Oh yeah, I understand," I said half listening to him.

"Great! With that said, I'll test a previous one out… I did this with Grissom."

I looked up at him with an attentive stare. A problem Grissom solved? How interesting… I'd be up to challenging my own mind against his. See who the better man is in the mind department.

"Any idea how long it took him to solve?"

"Including the time it took me to narrate the problem… mm… ten minutes, maybe?"

"Let's go for it. Time me, will you, Hodges?" I picked up a random piece and set it in the interrogation room. Hodges pursed his lips in a wide smile and nodded.

"Will do."

"You obviously committed suicide and shaped it to look like a homicide, right?"

"That is right, San - "

"Time!"

_Beep._

"… Nine minutes, fifty eight seconds, and eight milliseconds."

"Yes!" I laughed and clapped my hands a couple times in my own little celebration. Calming down, I took another sip of my coffee, which has had the time to cool down quite a bit. I decided to reheat it, so I got out of my seat and popped it into the microwave. I turned around and leaned against the counter as I waited for it to finish, "I beat Grissom's time."

"Well… I said 'ten minutes, _maybe.'_" Hodges looked up at me. My smile dropped and my face hardened. I can tell the dramatic change got to him, "… you probably did beat his time. It could have been over ten minutes."

"Haha… that's what I thought…" I grinned again and looked at the floor, then back up at him. I could tell he was uncomfortable and troubled. He kept fidgeting in his seat. There was a long awkward silence between us… or, however long a little less than a minute was. The silence was broken by the microwave screeching behind me. I took my coffee out and sat back down, trying to sip some, but found it burned the tip of my tongue.

He stared at me for a second; I could tell he was amused by me burning my tongue; he was laughing inside… I could tell.

I stared back, just to see if he'd notice. He did within a couple seconds, fidgeting again and clearing the board. "Do you… want to play again?" he asked.

"Sure!" I smiled, "It's a pretty fun game you got here, Hodges. Really makes me think, good workout for my brain when I'd want to get it back in shape." I gave a small laugh again, trying to get Hodges to laugh too. Hodges was different. He gave a slight chuckle, but it wasn't natural. This wasn't Hodges in front of me.

"All right –"

"Hey, Hodges?"

"Yeah?" he put my little guy back on the board slowly as he answered. He sounded shocked.

"Everything all right with you?"

"Yeah! Yeah. Everything is all right…" he pursed his lips in a smaller smile now, with shiftier eyes. I squinted my own and tilted my head slightly. If Hodges were ever weasel like… it was now.

"O…kay…" I readjusted myself in my seat, "If you say so…"

"Yup!" He exhaled loudly through his nose put the cards to his game away, "Hey… how about I… make the next one up? Out of… practice? For me? If you can make up a crime, than you can certainly solve them."

"Sure. Go for it, Hodges."

"Okay…" he took in a deep breath and looked at the board game, "You are… ah. You're in the break room with me, and you've just finished playing this game. Since you've drunken so much coffee, you need to go to the bathroom. On the way there, you hear Catherine muttering something about how she wishes fraudulency wasn't always a bad thing. You exchange hellos upon passing by and walk into the bathroom. There you see Warrick and Nick. They're arguing about how Nick stole some of Grissom's French fries for lunch, and Nick doesn't feel guilty doing so. Warrick leaves, disgusted, not noticing you on his way out.

"Nick, sees you and looks awfully calm and casual. You pretend not to know of anything he and Warrick were talking about, and go about your business.

"Upon leaving, you see Grissom, who claims he is very full from his lunch. Apparently, he's oblivious to the fact that some of his fries were stolen. You shrug and start walking down the hallway, when you find yourself sprawled on your back within seconds. You've just slipped on a banana peel and broke your back."

"Me?" I grinned with a great load of surprise, "I'm the victim in this crime?"

"Yeeee-ees…" Hodges didn't look at me. I figured it was to help him get his made-up story straight and flawless.

"… continue…"

"It's the team's job to figure out who left the banana peel there. They know it's someone from work, so they can't trust anybody. Meanwhile, you've been sent to the hospital. Tell me, how does the gang process the scene and figure out who left the banana peel there?"

Such an interesting situation! Hodges, what can I say? You've incorporated a comedy into a tragedy. But why is it that, even in fiction, I get sent to the emergency room?


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Okay… and my suspects are everyone I've encountered along my little journey," I muttered to myself, resting my chin on my hand. I scratched my cheek and sniffed, "That means you could be a suspect, Hodges."

"I'll give you a hint… I'm not."

I looked up at him, a little angry. Why'd he have to go and give me a hint? I'm perfectly capable of ruling him out.

"Thanks… Hodges…" I shook my head and returned to thought, "Let's see… Catherine must have been busy with another case, or just finished one, because she was talking about fraudulency…" I glanced up at Hodges, to see if he'd respond to anything I'd say. He didn't, so I averted my glance and continued my thoughts, "Nick stole some of Grissom's French fries… and from this crime, Warrick talks to Nick disappointedly." I glanced up again. Still, nothing. Good. I don't want anything given away, "And then… a banana peel comes out of nowhere…? Hodges, maybe this case is too roughly thought out. I don't see a single connection between everybody, myself, and the banana. Is this a joke?"

"Is what a joke?"

"This! This whole thing! The connection between me, everybody, the ba-na-na?"

"The… banana?" he leaned in. I paused and looked at him funnily, tilting my head. I didn't answer; I wanted him to continue his thought, "Yes… the banana… the banana is a joke… of sorts." He sat up straight and cleared his throat, getting shifty again.

"Well… the joke could have been wrongly done on me. I see that Nick and Warrick have motives against each other to play the joke, Nick could also do it to Grissom, or Grissom could do it to Nick… if he finds out that Nick stole his French fries."

"I… think you're looking at it too hard, and from the wrong angle. You're bringing in ideas from outside the context. We don't know if Grissom ever finds out about the theft."

"Well, then there's Catherine. I don't know who she'd be wanting to play the prank on, so that leaves her out of the picture. You already said you're out. I see Nick as my prime victim and suspect."

"He could be one of those, yes…" Hodges looked away from me and started examining the room, leaning back in his swivel chair. I took a sip of my coffee, deeply in thought. I looked back up at Hodges when he spoke out of the blue, "but Catherine is important to the case. Just so you know." He still wasn't looking at me. I don't know what was making Hodges so awkward. Did I have something in between my teeth? Did I smell? No… I don't think I smelled… was it my teeth?

"Okay…" I tried to discreetly clean my teeth by running my tongue against their faces, "I'll put her aside for now, then." I leaned back as well… I honestly couldn't think of anyone's motive to injure me, so the banana couldn't have been intended for me… or could it?

"Was Nick angry that I overheard what he had done to Grissom's lunch?" I licked my lips, "Was that it? That's some sort of a motive…"

"Maybe…" Hodges gave a small nod and started to pick off the lint on his pants.

"Okay… I'll stick with that. So, Nick plays a joke on me, which ends up hurting me in the end… physically. And somewhat morally as well… how embarrassing to slip on a banana peel!" I laughed at my own stupidity in Hodge's story. He was smiling, but I couldn't tell if it was out of humor or sympathy.

"You're good so far."

"Great! Now how do they process it –"

"Forget about that." Hodges interrupted me. This couldn't have been the first time… no, it wasn't. Take it easy, buddy, it's only a game, "I want you to focus on everyone else…"

"Hmm…" I thought for a little bit. This case didn't feel like it had any meaning in it whatsoever, or that it could be solved completely. There were so many loose ends! But… I couldn't help but notice that the Warrick in the story greatly resembled the Warrick I've been witnessing for the past couple days. Come to think of it, funny how Hodges started the story in the break room, after this game…

And then it hit me. There was more meaning to the game. Much more. The story actually related to me somehow. I felt like if I could tie the loose ends together with what was going on in my life currently, then I could figure out why everyone was acting so differently.

"… this is more than a game, isn't it, Hodges?" I looked at him calmly, questioningly. He finally held a stare, and, after another long pause, gave a nod and answered me back:

"Why, yes, Greg… this is in fact more than a game."

"Are you trying to tell me what is going on in the lab right now?" I leaned closer, so that my elbows were now resting on the table, my hands laced together in front of me. Hodges gave yet another pause, and yet another nod.

"In a way, I suppose."

"Why can't you just say it out right?"

"Because I don't think you would believe me if I did." He sighed. I gave his last statement some thought. Pushing it aside, I decided I'd finish the "game" and find more ways to connect it to my life. I decided the easiest and most efficient way would be to do it character by character, since Warrick fit in so nicely both ways.

Warrick, in the story, was upset at Nick. But in my life right now, he seems to be upset at both Nick and Catherine. Ooh, that's complicated. I'll touch back on that later. In the story, Nick plays a joke on me, he places a banana peel on the floor. But he also steals some fries from Grissom. I… don't think Nick has stolen anything from Grissom lately.

I sighed… why was this so hard? If it didn't relate to my life, I wouldn't care so much I imagine. My eyes started to scan the room, in search of some clue… anything at all that I could use to help solve this mystery.

What did I see? Some books, the doorframe, Hodges's head, the table, the letter, my coffee, my –

Everyone started acting funny after I left the hospital, when I returned back to work. I thought it was because of my hospital gown, but it must've been from Sara. In the hospital, I thought Sara was talking to me… so I spoke back to her. Nick and Catherine were there, they heard me talking to "Sara." I'm pretty sure that's when everyone knew how I felt about Sara leaving…

And then, it hit me. And I don't think I liked where this solution was going. I looked at Hodges, and he looked back at me. He wasn't shifting anymore. In fact, he was quite still. And I think I know why. I know the explanation to everything, now. You'd think that knowing the reason behind everything would make you excited and happy, but to be honest, it made me scared and depressed.

For once in my life, I was hoping that I was wrong.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Hey, Hodges?" I said, after a long, suspenseful moment. Hodges cleared his throat, and answered me quite kindly.

"Yes, Greg?"

"You didn't tell Sara I was injured, did you?"

"No, Greg…"

I licked my lips and looked away from him, staring down into the innards of my coffee mug. You ever feel like a cloud of sorrow randomly hovers over you, or comes after you have realized, or encountered something? And in trying to remain neutral, you stare out a window, or a random part of a room that you wouldn't normally find yourself staring at?

Well… right now, the mug was my window. The mug was half-empty. Normally, I'd see it as half-full… or would I? Maybe to me, it would always be half-empty.

"I didn't think so…" I sighed heavily. Since Hodges didn't contact Sara someone else should have, but I knew that wasn't the case. My fuel of happiness for the past couple days have been nothing but a placebo, and oh, how much it hurt to figure that out…

"Greg… you okay?" I heard Hodges's voice somewhere in the distance; I knew he was right there in front of me, but he sounded so faint…

"Wh-what?" My eyes slowly moved from my mug to Hodges's worried mug. I heard what he had said, but I was stalling for words to say.

"Are you okay?" he repeated, twice as slow.

"Yeah, Hodges…" I rubbed my forehead, stood up and bolted out the room, "Just fine!"

I know my reaction was a little rude – if not more – but I couldn't stand being there. It was nice of Hodges not to lie to me, but also, not to shove it in my face. But at the same time, I hated him for showing me the truth. I was happy, living the lie, thinking Sara actually knew about my injury, cared about me like the way I cared about her…

I shook my head and realized what room I was in: the broom closet. How the hell did I get in here? I turned around and started marching off in no particular direction at all; I walked pretty far from when I last remember being…

Hodges. Just when I was warming up to the guy, he had to make me cold and bitter. But I shouldn't be taking it out on him. It's not _his_ fault he was dragged into this situation. Speaking of situation…

I rounded a corner – could have sworn I rounded it three times already…

Let's work backwards… before I slipped on the banana peel, I bumped into Grissom, who was oblivious to Nick stealing his French fries. Before that, I was with Nick in the bathroom right after Warrick left, disgusted at him. Before that, I passed Catherine talking about forgeries…

Okay, I definitely did round this corner already. Whatever – just walk it off, Greg. Walk it off.

I would've continued walking at my brisk pace, but there was a rock in my way down the hall.

Oh, no, silly me… it's just Nick.

"Hey, Greggo! My man! How's it going?" He looked up from the files in his hands and grinned a huge, toothy grin. God, it made me sick how happy he looked… how fake he was acting towards me. What was his problem?

I wanted to splash some water into his face, wake him up a little into reality, show him that I'm not a guy to have his feelings messed with. I did not have water on hand, but I had my coffee. Before I knew it, it was all over his shirt, files, and face.

"Whoa!" he yelled out, a little more surprised than angry. He threw his arms to his sides, looked down at his shirt, then over at the drenched files, and then at me. If I were a little less upset, I would be crying over my spilt coffee, my lovely Blue Hawaiian. But, quite frankly, I just didn't care right now, "What the hell was that for?"

"Just a little wake-up call, buddy," I answered, bitterness coating my speech.

"Wha-?"

"Don't act dumb! You think that's my role, remember?" I could feel everyone working in the lab stop and stare at us. I really could care less; I had a bone to pick with Nick.

"Greg? What's the matter with you?" I could feel the heat rising between us as he raised his voice, and no, it wasn't a good heat.

"What's going on here?" Catherine ran into the scene, her eyebrows slanted in a confused way. My eyes darted between her and Nick. I ignored her question, but aimed my answer to Nick's at the both of them.

"What's the matter with me? What's the matter with _you_ guys!" I couldn't believe them; how under_standing_ they are! Oh… someone, give them a medal. Please. "Messing with a guy's feelings. Making him LIVE a LIE."

"Greg… what're you talking about?" Catherine spoke in place of Nick, who was fuming with anger, instead of guilt. I leaned down and pointed my index finger right at her face. Why are they so stubborn! So per_sis_tent!

"Don't. Play. Dumb! You did it! You guys set it all up! EVERYTHING. The Hodges, the letter, my hopes!" I think just about everyone in the lab was listening in, now. People in the elevators could probably hear me. Once again, I really could care less, "I don't know HOW you could take my love for Sara and toy with it! What do you think I am? A little puppet? 'Ooh! Let's pull _this_ string! See what he does!' Huh? HUH? 'Let's… _watch_ the little guy hang onto false hope. And then we'll see him _fall! _Oh, how much _fun _this game is!' Well I'll tell you now, I've fallen, and I'm not having fun!" My breathing was heavy; my stare, cold. I never felt so much hatred; I felt like a shaken up soda bottle about to burst.

Woop. Spoke too soon. Here they come… I can feel them… the tears.

I stared at Nick and Catherine, more disgusted than how I remember Warrick looking. Look at them… gaping fools. A couple of liars they are, fakes, traitors. Some friends they were…

"… just lay off." I announced in an undertone. Turning around, I made my way back down the hall, sure not to round a corner more than once. People stepped out of my way; silence filled the lab.

I did not want to stay here. No. I was going home. And it would have been smooth sailing from my exit, but Nick _had_ to follow. The jerk.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Hey Greg!" I heard Nick call from behind me, his quicker footsteps echoing in the parking lot. I figured he ran to catch up. I just ignored him, shaking my head once, taking deep breathes as I went my way through the parking lot. I felt my eyes burn with the longing to let out a few tears, and one finally trickled down, and then another.

"Greg!" I heard him call again. I mopped my watery eyes with my sleeve, clearing my throat. I really didn't want to talk to him. I really wanted to be alone, let my feelings loose on a pillow, or a wall. Nick was the last person I wanted to see right now, let alone talk to. Well… maybe except for Grissom.

I wanted to lose him, so I zigzagged between parked cars. I could hear that he stopped for a second, but still persisted the chase.

"Greg…" he nagged. I quickened my pace, a light jog around and through the cars. I could hear him still, not as graceful as me, bumping into cars with grunts and growls of frustration. I gave a small laugh. How amusing…

But I soon heard a car alarm explode from two cars away from me. He was running and bumping into cars to catch up to me. I quickly took a peek over my shoulder and saw his serious face behind me. Surprised, I sped off in a full-out run, hoping to get to my car and drive out before he would have a chance to catch up.

"Greg! Dammit, GREG!" he swore, sprinting off after me. I took quick breaths, trying to remember where I parked my car. 2Q? 3M? 4X - ?

Woah! What was that? I just saw something zip past me…

There it is again! As I continued to run, I glanced at the ground and saw pieces of candy. He's throwing _candy_ at me! How pa_the_tic!

4X – that was where I parked my car. 4X. I was on the second floor, no chance in hell I could snag a ride on the elevator. Or… it was worth a shot. I rerouted to the right of the lot and continued running. I saw in the distance a portly man waiting for the elevator. If I can just get there in time…

Meanwhile, Nick was still eating my dust. To be honest, I think he lost some of his energy chucking gumballs at me. Gumballs… why the hell gumballs?

The door! It just opened! "Hey!" I yelled out, "Don't close the door! Don't let it close!" The guy walked in and turned around, I was about ten yards away, "Hey! HEY! Don't let it – NO!" The door started to close, I was almost there, "Sir! Please!" I think the guy must've been deaf, because he finally heard me and pushed the button to open the door. It did, and I was breathless as I scrambled inside.

"Why, sir, sorry about –"

"Close the door – CLOSE THE DOOR!" I babbled manically as I attacked the "close" button. I could see Nick running at me still, yelling to keep the door open. The door started to close, he was twenty feet away. Half way, ten. Just close _close _CLOSE!

And it finally did. I could hear Nick clobbering the door with his fists, swearing at me. I let out a huge sigh and closed my eyes, leaning against the elevator walls and grinned, laughing at the situation.

"He's… gone… gone, gone! Hahaha…" I bet I must have seemed insane to the man next to me, because he crammed himself into the corner furthest away from me.

"In a… a bit of a rush, now, sonny?" he thought I was crazy. I knew he thought I was crazy, "What that man want to do with you?"

"Oh… I don't know, and I don't care… I really don't – " I felt my stomach lurch as the elevator started going down. My eyes opened and I frowned. I searched the elevator for the buttons, one was lit up, "… this elevator going down?"

"Yessir."

"… mmff…" I slouched and pushed the button for the fourth floor. Hopefully, Nick would have given up and wouldn't be waiting for me when I got there.

_Ding._

The doors opened and I slowly poked my head out. I looked around… no sign of Nick.

Just in case, I crouched down and traveled around the lot this way, slimming my chances of being seen by anyone, being sure not to utter a sound. Nevertheless, I swore under my breath once I spotted my car, across the clearing. I poked my head out again and looked both ways. No one. The lot was empty of people. I could feel my heart pounding in my throat, but I figured I should relax, because I was basically home free.

I stood up and walked across the clearing, trying to calm myself down, only to tense up and feel as if a car had hit me… _again._

Oh, no, it was not a car. It was just Nick.

He held me up by my collar and pushed me up against my own car. Why does this scene seem backwards? I should be the one pushing _him_ up, shouldn't I?

"Greg… why don't you just stay still for a moment, huh?"

"Leave me alone! What the hell do you want from me?" I kneed him in the gut and pushed him off me as he held his stomach. I rounded my car towards the driver's side and scrambled for my keys. Where were they? Front left, right, back left, right – here we go! I pulled them out and was about to unlock my car when Nick came at me again, this time grabbing my shoulders and swinging me around towards the clearing.

I landed on my stomach, my keys flying a few feet from my hand. I groaned, and tried to get up to receive my keys, when Nick turned me over and held me down.

"Finally, Greg! Why don't you stay still and we can chat for a moment." I could tell he was angry, but he was only provoking me… that, and making me more miserable. My eyes started to swell up again.

"Nick, just leave me alone…" I pleaded. I didn't want any of this, I just wanted to be alone. Why would he be trying so hard to stop me from leaving, anyway? In such a harsh manner, too! What's the matter with you Nick? I thought you were the caring type.

"Greg, let's talk about this…" impatience riddled his voice.

"I don't want to talk, Nick. Just leave me –"

"We need to talk –"

"Just leave me alone! - "

"We need to talk! –"

"Just go! Fucking _leave_ me _alone_, Nick! Dammit! What part of 'I don't want to talk' do you not understand?" Nick didn't respond right away as he had previously. In an attempt to hold back tears again, only pathetic, spastic sobs escaped me. I think he was trying to catch his breath for a softer tone in his speech.

"Greg, I know you're upset, but I think you're taking it too far… I mean, the whole situation is probably muddling up your brain. What's the matter with you?"

"What about me acting normally, out of my own, _natural_ feelings, due to your _fucked up_ actions, do you _not_ understand?" I retorted. Our breathing was heavy, filling in the silence between us. I was raising my voice a fraction every word, "How _natural_ is it to be _pissed _and _irritable_ when _someone _has just messed with how much you _love_ someone else? Huh? HUH?" Nick just stared at me, "Answer me, Nick! Maybe then you'll see that there's nothing 'the matter with' me, but something messed up with you…" I ended my statement bitterly and contained. I pushed his hands off my shoulders and sat up, glaring at him. He was speechless, his jaw set, harsh breaths coming through his nose. I don't think he ever once let his eyes off me as I stood up, walked over and knelt down to get my keys, and over to my car.

I stopped in front of my car, turned around and looked back at him. He had stood up now.

"Just so you know, I find it hilarious how you chased me and ran all the way here. All for a stupid, out of place question," and it's true. I honestly found it hilarious. I threw my keys up and caught them, laughing to myself. I stopped suddenly with a smirk on my face, "And you even pulled out the use of force. Nick, Nick, Nick…" I tossed my keys up again, "I thought you were more of a man than that. I guess we know now, between the two of us, who the better man is." I bid him farewell with a wave of my fingers, as if to say "ta-ta," and turned around on my heel.

I pulled out of my parking spot, finding Nick still standing there in the middle of the road and honked at him kindly.

"You want to move?"

"Greg, we didn't want to see your feelings hurt."

"Well, good job! You did the exact opposite. Someone, bring this boy some flowers…"

"We wanted to make you feel better. After… the accident."

"Oh, you want another reward? Always asking for more; you know, avarice was never a good thing…"

"Catherine and I snuck into Grissom's office and printed out a few of the emails she's sent him, and tried to create a new letter directed towards you. Greg, please understand. We didn't think you'd figure it out."

"Didn't think I'd figure it out… am I not an investigator? And, come on, Nick… how low is it to forge a love letter?"

"She's only sent him two letters since she left."

"I don't _care _how many letters she's sent him."

"We knew you missed her."

"Yeah, after what? You catch me talking in my sleep? You know, for investigators, you guys are pretty lousy when it comes to understanding people."

"Everyone misses her, Greg."

"…" I grew sullen again, the smirk on my face disappeared. I felt like just slamming on the gas and running him over. But it wouldn't be worth it.

What am I talking about? Of course it would be worth it! Anything to prove my love for Sara is authentic… the truest love there could possibly be. A love not to be messed with.

But if I ran him over, I'd end some plot somewhere… some story would probably lose some of its intensity. So, with that thought in mind, I turned the wheel and guided the car around Nick to his right, so he was right next to my window.

"Not as much as me, Nick." I said it calmly, strongly, but felt my voice crack a little as my eyes started to water for some reason. I blinked it off, sniffing and looked away. As I drove away, I looked at Nick through my rear view mirror, and I think, finally, Nick got it.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

When I got home, I seriously felt like staring at the wall. I needed to take some time to think my thoughts through, thinking Nick could possibly be right, and I just can't think straight due to the impact this situation is having on me. So, that's what I did. I leaned back against my counter, the elbow of my right arm resting on my left arm across my chest, my right hand scratching at my chin and lower lip. I let my eyes flood up and allowed for the tears to roll down my cheeks. I figured it's not healthy to keep these sort of feelings bottled up inside, even though they were silent tears for the most part.

Remember that thing I brought up earlier? About staring at something you usually never would find yourself normally staring at, but you suddenly notice its significance? Well, that happened with a nail hammered into the wall. There was no painting hanging from it. There used to be, can't remember what the painting was, but it wasn't that important to me. Ever since I took that picture down, I've been waiting to put up a better one. An important one.

_Brrriiing, rrring!_ My moment of silence was interrupted by my home phone ringing. I turned my head and stared away from the nail and towards the phone further away on the kitchen counter to my left.

_Brrriiing, rrring!_ Who would be calling now?

_Brrriiing, rrring! _Oh, who am I kidding. It's definitely someone from work.

_Brrriiing, rrring! _Why won't they just leave me alone?

_Brrriiing, rrring! _Don't pick it up, Sanders…

_Brrriiing, rrring! _Boy, does it ring for a long time.

_Brrriiing, rrri-! _Then the rolling of the answering machine crackled, and I heard my energetic, electronic voice speak.

"Hey! You've reached Greg. If it's night, I _am_ at work. If it's the day, I'm either asleep… OR, I'm at work! Leave your name and number, and I'll call you back!"

_Eeep!_

"Hey, Greg… it's Catherine. Listen, I am very sorry about what happened… Nick and I did it with the best intentions. We realized how glum you were feeling, and didn't like seeing you that way… Listen, Greg, you hate our guts. We're sorry. Hope you can accept our apology. Talk to you later." And with a sigh, she hung up. I continued to eye the answering machine for a few seconds longer, and when I looked away (_Brrriiing, rrring!_ ) the phone rang again.

_Brrriiing, rrring! _Not again.

_Brrriiing, rrring! _Catherine, if it's you, I'm not here. You just called.

_Brrriiing, rrring! _Nick, if it's you, you know I'm finished with you.

_Brrriiing, rrring! _Can't a guy have his privacy?

_Brrriiing, rrring! _I guess not…

_Brrriiing, rrri-! _The answering machine picked up again. The person calling this time was Warrick.

"Hey, Greg, it's Warrick. I heard you found out what happened, and I'm sorry that they did such a thing to you. Really am. I regret not telling you from the start, but I didn't have the heart to break the news to you when you looked so happy. I felt it was better to wait it out a little, but I guess I was wrong with that. Listen, if you need to talk to anyone, or vent, just give me a call. Okay? We can take it at the diner, go get a drink, or something.

"Take care of yourself, Greg." And he hung up.

Warrick… he's been real good to me lately. What a great guy. Unlike Nick and Catherine. But… a part of me was mad at him, too. He was right. He was wrong. He should have told me sooner. He should have…

What am I thinking? Listen to yourself, Greg. You're becoming a maniac. A hater. You're judging everyone who's trying to do things with good intentions.

"Oooh…" I rubbed my face with both hands. I felt so tired… I could probably fall asleep standing up, if I tried.

And then the phone rang again. _Brrriiing, rrring! _I separated my fingers on my face and peeked an eye out to look down at the phone again.

_Brrriiing, rrring! _Oooh geez!

_Brrriiing, rrring! _Give it a rest, will you guys?

_Brrriiing, rrring! _Okay, who is it now? Who is left?

_Brrriiing, rrring! _Brass? He sounded a little worried before, but probably not.

_Brrriiing, rrring!_ Hodges? … no, too farfetched.

_Brrriiing, rrri - !_ I waited for the caller's voice after my recorded one. As the electronic me talked, I meandered over to the couch, where I laid down on my back, trying to relax. I closed my eyes. Just take a deep breath, Sanders… you'll get over it all soon…

"Greg. It's Grissom." My eyes shot open and I stared blankly at the ceiling, "Calling to see if you'd like to talk now or not. If you do, just drop by or call me. Look forward to seeing you at work tomorrow." And he hung up.

The nerve of that man! Well… maybe it would be a good time to talk to him, now… But it's _Grissom_ I'm talking about here! … but it couldn't be that bad, could it?

I rolled over on my stomach and let out a groan into the cushions. The phone rang so much within the past couple minutes, it was ringing in my brain! _Brrriiing, rrring!_

_Brrriiing, rrring!_ Listen! There it goes again!

_Brrriiing, rrring! _Wait… I don't think that's in my head.

_Brrriiing, rrring! _I lifted my head from the pillow. Yeah… it definitely wasn't in my head.

_Brrriiing, rrring! _God, just shut _up!_

_Brrriiing, rrring! _I hopped over the top of my couch and walked over to unplug it…

_Brrriiing, rrri-! _…but it already got to the answering machine. I figured since it got this far, there'd be no use in unplugging the phone. I waited for the person to speak, and when she did, I couldn't believe my ears.

"Hey, Greg? It's me, Sara…"

"Sara…?" I leaned against the wall. I felt my body temperature raise immeasurably, the room looked so big and bright, I don't even know what I felt. I couldn't even catch what she was saying, I was too caught up in the fact that she was calling. Was it really her? Or was it another joke? I looked at the answering machine and listened to her voice, just the sound, and not the meaning behind the words…

"… -ssom notified me and filled me in on what happened to you, and I'm calling to see if you're all right. I heard what happened in the lab, too, with Nick and Catherine, and I'm sorry about it all. I wish there was something I could do. I know you're busy and stressed, Greg – "

There we go. She said my name again… oh, the things you can do to me, Sara… if only you knew…

"… that's my number. I want you to call me; I'm worried about you. Hope to talk to you soon." And then I woke up. Sara's on the phone. She called me. She's still on the line! I quickly reached for the phone and held it to my face.

"Sara!" But it was no use. I caught the sound of the phone meeting it's receiver. I slowly put the phone back down and gazed at the answering machine.

…

…

… did she say she gave me her number?

I hopped the counter and quickly thrust open a drawer in search of a paper and pen. I found a pen, but couldn't find anything to write on.

"Dammit…" I pushed the buttons on the phone dock to replay Sara's message, and leaned up against the wall.

"Hey, Greg? It's me, Sara. It's been a while… I regret leaving, really, I do. Grissom notified me and filled me in on what happened to you, and I'm calling to see if you're all right. I heard what happened in the lab, too, with Nick and Catherine, and I'm sorry about it all. I wish there was something I could do. I know you're busy and stressed, Greg, but I'm giving you my number…"

I raised my hand to the wall and quickly scribbled down the number, repeating the digits as she announces them, "Four one five… three five, six… nine three… six six."

I stared at the numbers after I finished writing them on the wall, admiring them. It was after her message had ended did I notice I wrote it under the nail in the wall.

My face lit up and I felt like this day had never happened. All the bad things, swept away. My heart lifted and I held my breath.

"Sara…" I sighed. It's then I checked my back pocket for my cell phone and took it out. I ran into my room, dialing a number along the way, and held it against my shoulder as I rummaged my closet in search of a black coat. When the person picked up, I was dashing outside my apartment while wrestling my coat on.

"Brown."

"Hey, Warrick? Can I meet you at the diner?"


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

By the time I made it to the diner, it was packed and full of chitter-chatter. I straightened myself out, brushed my coat with my hands and attained a good posture. I stood on my toes for a second to peer above everyone's heads in search of Warrick. I pursed my lips and rubbed my chin… must be further in the diner.

I started making my way further into the diner, scraping by and dodging waiters along the way. Occasionally, a customer would step on my foot with a grunt, or a "move it, buddy."

"Yeah, stop talking in third person, why dontcha?" I'd smoothly call back. I was in way too good of a mood for anything to swipe the smile off my face. I needed to talk to someone who wasn't horribly flustered at the moment, who could think straight, who would understand me. If you thought Nick or Catherine, where have you been?

"Warrick!" I grinned and waved across the crowd when I spotted him. Warrick looked up from his shake and tried to follow the direction of my call, finally finding me and raising a hand in acknowledgement. I pushed through the crowd, with "excuse me"s and "pardon me"s along the way. Warrick had snagged a lovely table next to the window, where the gang used to sit in the old days. Those were the times…

"I ordered a shake for you, it should be on its way," he said calmly as I squeezed through the last bit of crowd and plopped on the cushioned bench, "Have fun getting here?"

"Oh, more than you know…" I started taking my coat off, "What flavor?"

"Vanilla."

"Ooh, my favorite…" even if Warrick had gotten me a flavor I despised, it would have been my favorite. Or… maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but I would have appreciated the motion just as much.

"So, you wanted to talk…?"

"Yeah! Today has been some wild ride."

"Tell me about it. I'm sorry what they've put you through, Greg. Real sorry. I should have told you about it sooner –"

"What? Nick and Catherine? That's old news!" the waiter came by and placed my shake in front of me. I nodded at him in gratitude and popped a straw in. Warrick was giving me quite the bewildered look.

"… old… news?"

"Ho yeah! I mean, yeah I'm mad at them, but something bigger has happened since then!" I energetically sucked the life out of my shake. Mmm… sweet, luscious goodness, "God, can't remember the last time I had one of these –"

"Did something bad happen, Greg?" I raised my gaze to meet Warrick's face; he still looked worried. I don't think my overjoyed feeling was getting through to him.

"No! Oh, no no no no nooo! Haha…" I twirled my glass around, the inner kid inside me shining out a little, "Something _great_ happened… something phe_nom_enal!" My grin grew wider as Warrick started to relax in his seat. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and prepared himself to listen intently.

"What is this… phe_nom_enal thing?"

"…" I started stirring my shake, my eyes now focusing on the swirling, bright red cherry in it. I replied shyly, "… you wouldn't believe me…"

"Oh, come on, Greg. You call me here to talk, and I'm ready to listen. Lay it on me…" he bent the straw to his lips and started drinking. I tightened the corners of my lips in a smirk of sorts and raised my gaze again.

"… Sara called me."

Warrick must've sucked too hard, because I saw his facial expression change dramatically from at ease, to surprised, to pain, then to regret. I watched him with the same happy look on my face. I bet he thinks I've become insane, too.

"… Sara called?" he asked, after recovering, a hand raised to his brow. I nodded, with my big, goofy grin on my face.

"Yessir!"

"… you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! Can't be another trick from Nick and Catherine. I mean, it was Sara's voice after all."

"Doesn't mean it can't be faked –"

"Pffft… pish posh, my man, pish posh!" I laughed. Even Warrick's attempts to make me doubt myself, to bring my mood down to realize a distasteful possibility, weren't working. Once I figured out my attempts to make Warrick laugh with me -- to see how happy I was right now -- wasn't working, I stopped laughing, "… I'm not joking."

"And neither am I. Someone could just as easily reproduce a sound-alike."

" I seriously don't think that's the case –"

"What did you guys talk about?"

"… we didn't talk."

"So she didn't call?"

"Well, I… no." I pursed my lips, becoming a little embarrassed in front of Warrick for some reason. I don't think I was holding up my side of the argument too well, "She left a message."

"Then…?"

"Look, it was her. I know Sara when I hear her."

"How can you be so sure?"

"She gave me her number."

"… she what?" I got Warrick to raise a brow. He's breaking, I can feel it. Believe me, Warrick! If you don't, I don't think anyone else will.

"She gave me her number," I repeated. Warrick leaned back in his seat and took another sip.

"…what's her number?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"Hey, calm down! I wrote it down."

"Well, let's see it then."

"I can't here…" I felt my face reddening. Boy, was I making a fool of myself…

"And why not?"

"I just can't…" I shifted my eyes. Please don't make me feel anymore of an idiot, Warrick.

"Look, Greg, it's a busy and loud day. It's not like anyone would want to listen to a couple guys like us talk about your long day. Even if it were empty, no one would care."

"That's not it, Warrick…"

"Then what?"

"I, uh… wrote the number down in my apartment."

"Did you call it back?"

"No…"

"And you didn't bring it here with you…"

"Haha, that would be pretty hard to do!" I leaned back in my seat, slouching a little as I stirred my shake again, muttering in an undertone, "Especially since I wrote it on the wall…"

Warrick must have miracle ears, because on his face must've been the widest grin I've seen him do in days. No, _weeks_. He gave a slight chuckle, and I couldn't help but join in.

"Think we should head back to your apartment and give this number a call?" he finally managed to say, running his thumb against the bottom of his nose for a second.

"Yeah, we should… but first!" I caught Warrick by surprise with my change of tone. I smirked again, I really shouldn't be prodding into this subject, but I just had to know, "How's Nick and Cath at the lab?"

"Nick and Cath? Well, besides being out of breath, when Nick reappeared in the lab he looked pretty down in the dumps. He had a little talk with Catherine. I didn't want to pull the whole 'I told you so' act then, it was pretty evident that they regretted what they did. After the talk, it was real clear that he made Cath feel worse. Only problem is that Nick looked pretty pissed, too."

"Hm. Wonder why…" What started as a chuckle turned into psychotic laughter, bringing Warrick's worried face back, with hints of discomfort. Problem was, I couldn't stop laughing. You'd think it'd stop when we left the diner, but no. Warrick was lucky he didn't have to drive to my place with me, otherwise he might've socked me in the face to get me to stop laughing.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"So… this is the number?"

"Yup…" I cleared my throat, admiring the scrawl on the wall under the nail. I could put a frame around it, and it would fit more, I think. It is important to me, after all, and that's what I've been looking for to hang, "I… couldn't find any paper."

"You could've used your skin."

"Skin cancer, Warrick!" I joked, "Rumors or not, I can't risk it!"

"Whatever…" he walked over to my counter and picked up the cordless phone, glancing over at the number at the wall and started dialing.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What're you doing?" I ran over to his side, interrupting his dialing.

"I'm calling Sara – "

"No! No no no, you _can't_ – " I put my hands on the phone in attempts to pry it out of his hands.

"Why not, Greg?" he pulled back. This tug of war kept on throughout our exchange in conversation.

"Because, it's much too soon, Warrick – "

"C'mon, Greg. You and I both know that you'd kill to talk to her right now – "

"Even so, I can kill you now for not feeling like calling her now – "

"Hah! You wouldn't, Greg… now let _go._"

"No!" I threw all of my body weight towards the tug, snatching the phone out of his fingers, stumbling over my feet to regain my balance, "… not yet."

Warrick shook his head at me and looked at me as if I were a sad, lost puppy. I was about to put the phone back on its receiver when it started to ring: _Brrriiing, rrring!_ We looked at each other, and then back at the phone, still in my hands.

_Brrriiing, rrring!_

"Who is it?" Warrick asked.

_Brrriiing, rrring!_ I looked down and saw a 4-1-5 number. I quickly glanced back up at the sacred scribble on the wall, then back down at the phone.

_Brrriiing, rrring!_

"Ah!" I dropped it on the floor out of not knowing what to do and excitement.

"Greg, who is it?"

_Brrriiing, rrring!_

"It's Sara…"

"Then answer it!" Warrick kneeled down to pick up the phone.

_Brrriiing, rrring!_

"No!" I jumped on him and pushed him out of the way, "you can't!"

"Why the hell can't I? Greg! Get off!"

_Brrriiing, rrri - ! _The answering machine started to run. The two of us froze on the floor, listening intently for Sara to speak.

"Hello? Greg? I understand you're not at work, so I figured you're at home. Is everything okay? You didn't return my last call… you're probably asleep. I'll try calling you back in the morning. Take care, Greg." And as she said those last few words, I had that urge to answer the phone again and start talking. Quickly, I jumped off Warrick and reached for the phone, pressing the talk button and holding it up to my face, all with lightning speed.

"Hello?" I called, breathlessly. To my dismay, I was once again greeted with the sound of phone hitting receiver. I held the phone in place for a moment, unwilling to set it down, until denial vanished and I acknowledged she really did hang up the phone. I bit my lower lip and hung up as well, standing up to put the phone on its base.

Meanwhile, Warrick had gotten up and was dusting his clothing off. When I put the phone back on its base, he crossed his arms.

"What was that?"

"What do you mean?" I turned around to face him.

"First," he brought his fingers out, knocking them out one by one, "you refuse that we call her. Second, you tackle me down to prevent the phone from being answered. But third, you scramble for the phone right as she's about to hang up?"

"…it's a cycle of anxiety." I made that up. I really didn't know why I was acting this way.

"Ahuh."

"I should see a shrink, huh?" It was only a joke.

"Or, you could talk to Grissom." I was just joking, Warrick!

"Why would I want to talk to him?"

"He'll probably talk to you for free, and you guys can relate to the Sara-thing."

"Nah, he'd probably charge me an arm and a leg… literally." I tried to avoid the topic of Grissom, if you could tell, "And I'd never use 'Sara' and 'thing' in the same sentence, if I were you…"

"And why not, shy guy?"

"I can kill for more reasons…" I looked at him with a pretty blank stare; he could figure the rest out.

"… all right! Then you could see a shrink tomorrow. You should go to sleep." I glanced at my clock hanging in the corner of my living room.

"It's eight o'clock – "

"You've had a long day. And trust me…" Warrick said as he made his way out the door, "you need it. I'll tell Grissom that you're seeing the doctors tomorrow. You'll be excused."

And then he was gone. I stood there for a moment, not knowing what to do. After walking around my house a couple times, to see if there was anything I could do to keep my mind off Sara – and I gave a valiant effort: I reorganized drawers I wouldn't do in my right mind, I washed the dishes, dried the dishes, put away the dishes, I did the small amount of laundry that accumulated over the past couple days, I took a shower… that felt nice – I found that Warrick was right, and I was dead tired. Whether it was from all the chores I just did, or from my day before he left I wasn't sure, but I decided I'd go to a psychiatrist tomorrow and see what happens from there…


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The room smelled like fabric softener and lemons. I leaned back in the amazingly lush, red loveseat that lives in Dr. Shimmon's waiting room. I couldn't help but notice how peculiar a man across the room from me was acting. He was sitting next to a younger blonde woman, probably closer to my age. I watched the man as he repositioned the magazines on the small table next to him, placing them in an even pile.

"Natalie… wipe."

"Why? What's the matter, Adrian?"

"I think one of the magazines had been sneezed on previously…"

"Why do we have to try a new psychiatrist?" the blonde asked, handing him a wipe from her purse. My eyes widened, a little perplexed; I figured I was being nosy, so I looked away and sighed.

"Because Dr. Kroger is on vacation…" the man replied inattentively.

"But… why couldn't we find a different psychiatrist in San Francisco?" … did she just say San Francisco? I turned my head to look back at them. Did they live in San Francisco? Maybe they knew Sara… most likely they didn't, because of how populated the city is… but it's a small city. I opened my mouth to walk around the subject, but my attention was diverted away from them when a door in the back opened.

"All right… first client of the day," a man with an eccentric hat, and glass they seemed to be upside down, came out with a clipboard, "a Mr. Greg Sanders?"

"Oh, that's me…" I pushed myself off the seat and straightened out my jacket. Walking over to him casually, I gave a quick "good morning" to the two friends still seated, and then entered his office… if you could call it one.

I've never been in a shrink's office before; his was very… interesting. There were Hello Kitty figures everywhere, along with an inflatable "Bozo the Clown" in the corner.

"Please, have a seat," he said kindly, gesturing towards a set of cushioned armchairs.

"Thank you for taking me in on such short notice, Dr. Shimmon," I sat down, still examining the room, "I've been… a little mixed up lately."

"Oh really? I'm guessing there's a particular subject you're interested in talking about, and this meeting is more of a one-time-only thing… am I right?" he set his clipboard down and leaned back in his chair, letting one foot rest on the other knee. I looked over at him for a second to nod, returning my gaze to his room. As if it belonged to a little girl… "I see you've taken an interest in my office."

"Yes… it's very… decorative – "

"If you mean the Hello Kitties, they're to get in touch with the little Japanese girl that lives inside me. My other self, you know? It's important to discover all sides of yourself…"

"Ah…" I looked back at him. Was this guy really a psychiatrist? "I see…"

"So, what's troubling you?" he leaned in, resting his chin on his fist, supported by the arm of his chair.

"Well, there's this girl, you see, and she left to San Francisco not too long ago – she worked with me… at work – and, well, I've had a thing for her for quite some time."

"Some time, huh? How long are we talking about?"

"Oh… maybe seven years? A little less, little… more." I looked at him; his gaze was unfazed.

"And why did she leave? Do you know?"

"Well, she was in a relationship with my boss, and she wrote a letter to him saying that she can't bear the stress anymore, the things we see everyday, and that she needed to escape it all. In my humble opinion, I blame my boss for letting her go…"

"I see… and do you think, if the two weren't together, that she would have stayed?"

"Yes, I do think so. I think I could have even helped her to feel better, more comfortable with her life.

"Anyway, I was upset enough, hearing about her leave, but everyone at work was making it worse for me. No one saw how upset I was, as if they didn't know I liked her for so long, and they all wanted to comfort my boss instead. I've held somewhat of a grudge against my boss and most of my coworkers. Anyway… the next day, I get into an accident…"

And I explained it to him. Everything. In the exact order that I figured it all out myself. My coworker's company in the hospital, my dream, the letter, the Hodges, the banana peel, to discovery… and every feeling along the way. I found myself falling into these emotions, being overjoyed when I was overjoyed, starting to tear up when I was crying, filling up with anger when they pissed me off. Mr. Shimmon was a pretty good listener, but what else would I expect from someone who does that for a living?

"And when she calls, I don't find myself wanting to talk to her until she's about to hang up. It's like I'm too scared to. By the time I _do _pick up the phone and say 'hello,' there's no one on the other line. I don't know what's up with me, or what I'm supposed to do… I'm just so confused."

"Well, Greg… there's no doubt in my mind – as cliché as this may sound – that you've fallen head over heels for this woman. Do you know if she'll ever come back?"

"No… no, I don't know…" I rubbed my forehead in discomfort, although it was nice to spill everything out to a good listener.

"Hmm. Well… you _could _always go to her…"

I looked up at him, my mouth slightly agape. Silence filled the space between us. He sustained the same posture, the same facial expression, and most likely the same opinion. I grinned and clasped both of my hands together.

"Oh, I," I said this all, laughing a little, "I couldn't possibly do that…"

"And why not?"

My grin faded. He was serious. He was really serious.

"Because! She left to get away from everything – everyone! What makes you think that she would want to see me?"

"Well, if she wants to speak to you as urgently as it sounds in her phone calls… seeing you would be just as good, if not better."

I grinned again, in disbelief, "You're insane…"

"You're the one who came to me." Ouch. Harsh. But… he was right. I came to him, and he was giving me his two cents. Plus, I guess I have been a little insane, lately.

Just a little.

Only a little.

Maybe more than a little.

Okay, I'm insane.

"And besides, it sounds like you'd do anything to see her again, given your reaction to the forged letter… the grudge against your boss…"

"I would do anything to see her again…"

"Why don't you call her back?"

"I just can't get myself to do it…"

"Oh. I see. Have you talked to your boss about this woman leaving?"

"No," I answered immediately. What's the big rush with talking with Grissom? It's not like he could help at all, "I don't need to."

"Don't need, or don't want?"

"… Want."

"And why not?"

"Because! How would he be able to help me? Boy do you ask a lot of questions…" I shook my head, surprised at how heated up I got from a couple of questions. Shimmon spoke after a lull.

"Tell you what, Greg…" he shifted in his seat, for what seemed like the first time since we sat down, "Our time together is up -- I have a client waiting for me in the waiting room --, but if you'd like to wait another hour, I'd be more than happy to continue talking about your dilemma."

"Thank you, Dr. Shimmon… but no thanks. I need time to think through this by myself." As I stood up, he followed suit. He led me to the door, opening it for me, and watched me out.

"If there's any question you have, don't be afraid to drop by."

"Don't worry, Dr. Shimmon. You'll be the first on my list." Hah, yeah right. I regret coming to this psycho, he didn't help at all. How could I trust a guy who thought he was a little girl with an affinity for Hello Kitty?


	16. Chapter 16

Author's Note: I was hoping someone would catch the Monk reference from the last chapter, but that's quite all right. Just my little try at being allusive. I think from now on -- since I hate writing author's notes in my updates -- I'll be putting my notes in my profile. But I just want to say, thank you so much to all of you guys who have been good to me and have stayed to see the show. It means a lot, and I hope I don't disappoint.

Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 16

After leaving the weirdo shrink's building, I didn't quite know where to go next. Warrick told me he'd tell Grissom that I was with the doctors… did that mean that I'd be away the whole dark morning? Because… I was asleep during that dark morning. Ah, crap. The thing I hate about night jobs is that you can't really communicate with other people what days you have off and such.

I looked at the car clock… it was twelve fifty three. Twelve fifty three… twelve fifty three.

"Wow, I have a lot of time to kill," I yawned, "I guess if I'm going to work tonight, I should take a nap. Although I'm not that tired…" I yawned again, "… but a nap wouldn't hurt."

When I got home, I threw my keys on the counter. They hit the phone dock, and that's when I remembered.

"Oh! Sara said she'd call in the morning!" I hustled over and checked to see if there were any new messages. There was one. I grew excited and pressed the recall button to listen to the message, but to my dismay, all I got was someone hanging up. My shoulders hunched over and I sighed, exhaling so that my lips buzzed.

"Nap, Sanders, nap. You need it." I dragged my feet to my room and let myself collapse on the bed. Dr. Shimmon's suggestions of dealing with Sara crept into my head: talking to Grissom, going to San Francisco and looking for her… the two were both ridiculous. I saw the latter as being more ridiculous than the first.

"San Francisco… hah. Grissom… what a jerk…"

"What's that you called me?"

"Nothing, boss." I replied casually, "just talking to myself about the suspect of this case. What jerks, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess you'd deserve being called that if you raped ninety nine women."

"Hahaha…"

"It's not funny, Greg." Grissom shot a dangerous look at me. My grin immediately froze, my laughter gone, and I nodded farewell. I left his office and set off to the locker room.

"Another case set to sleep, Sanders. You are on _fire!_"

"Help! Help! I'm on fire!" I stopped dead in my tracks, surprised at the sudden cry for help. My eyes widened as a Nick-sent-aflame charged down the hallway perpendicular to mine, flailing his arms about, "Help! Help!" I jogged over to where my hallway and his met, and peered into it. I saw Nick disappear around the corner and shrugged.

"Second time this week. Guy never learns…" I chuckled to myself, only to be interrupted.

"I wouldn't say that." I turned around and found Hodges facing me, "Nick learns quite well after making humongous mistakes."

"Haha… you said 'humongous.'" I don't know why I found that funny. I don't think I'd find that funny in my right mind. Weird thing was that Hodges burst out laughing and slapped me on the shoulder.

"You're right! I did… ooh, yes, I did. Didn't think anyone would catch that!"

"Oh, but I did! Haha… I'm just too good for you –"

"Help! Fire!" Nick reappeared again, this time being chased down by Catherine holding up a can of whipped cream, "Help!"

"Hold still, Nick!" she commanded as she fired the whipped cream at him. I leaned forward to try and take in the fact that cream was extinguishing fire.

"Ah… thanks Cath," Nick stood relaxed, his shoulders hunched and his knees unbuckled, "I feel a lot better, now…"

"No problem, Nick. Maybe this time you'll learn?"

"Yeah, I sure will. Just like you learned not to use a fire extinguisher to extinguish fires on me two days ago."

"That's right…" Catherine laughed and looked over at me. Our eyes met and she walked over, "Hey, Greg! How're you feeling?"

"Me? Why I'm… I'm doing better, I guess. Better."

"Only better?" she frowned and took me by the waist, leading me down the hallway towards the locker room, "Is everything all right?"

"I guess, yeah, now that I've gotten over everything."

"But what is there to get over? We all thought you'd be jumping with joy!" Okay. Catherine officially lost me. Put that down in the papers.

"… why?"

"I thought you'd enjoy what we did for you for your birthday."

"My birthday…?" Okay, I definitely knew something wasn't right, now. My birthday wasn't in the winter.

"Yeah! How we brought Sara from San Francisco over to you!"

"You did?" I stopped walking and turned to face her fully, "You brought Sara? Where is she now?"

"She should be somewhere in the lab…"

"Ooh! I could just kiss you right now!" I grinned a huge, toothy grin; I noticed the enticement on Cath's face though, and my grin immediately vanished, "… but I won't." I sped off down the hallway, in search of anything Sara – hopefully I'd find a trail that would lead me straight to her. I know her scent, and I could smell it from a mile away…

Problem was, I couldn't smell anything. I must've ran for over ten minutes, and that should be enough to cover the entire lab, floors and all, especially since most of the walls are see-through.

I decided that she'd pop up at some point, so I continued on my original trek to the locker room. When I stepped inside, I couldn't believe my eyes. It was Sara! Standing, looking inside her locker! Or… that's not where I remember her locker being. In fact, I thought that was Warrick's locker. Maybe they traded?

Hell, I didn't care!

"Sara!" I yelled out happily, a goofy grin splattered on my face, my hands held out slightly. This was too good to be true, "Sara, oh my god, I never thought I'd see you ag-GOD!"

It was too good to be true. When Sara closed the locker door, I discovered it wasn't Sara in front of me, but Sara, with Warrick as her face. I must've had the most displeased look on my face: my mouth was open to the floor, my eyes wide, as if forced open by a machine, my nostrils flared and my eyebrows twisted.

"What the hell are you?" I yelled at her – him – it – thing – Sarrick, "You're not Sara!"

"Sorry, Greg…" the person responded in Warrick's calm, but depressed voice. He raised a camera up and took a picture of me and all my confusion. I flinched from the excruciatingly bring flash, rubbing my eyes. The flash was so powerful, it was sending jeers into my ears.

No… it wasn't the camera. It was my coworkers.

I turned around and they all were there with me: Catherine, Nick, Brass, Grissom, Hodges, Wendy, Bobby… everyone! And I'm serious when I say "everyone," because people I have never even seen before were there, laughing at me. Meanwhile, Warrick was still taking pictures with the stabbing flash.

I felt the energy being drained from my body. I couldn't bare to stand, I couldn't bare to breath, my senses were being overstressed.

_Flash!__Hahaha! _What the hell is going on here?

_Flash!__Hahaha! Brrriiing, rrring!_ What is this, a nightmare?

_Flash!__Hahaha! Brrriiing, rrring!_ It's gotta be a dream… it must be a dream!

_Flash!__Hahaha! Brrriiing, rrring! _But I've never felt dreams feel so painful…

_Flash!__Hahaha! Brrriiing, rrring! _Was that the phone ringing?

_Flash!__Hahaha! Brrriiing, rrring! _The locker room doesn't have a phone…

_Flash!__Hahaha! Brrriiing, rrring! _… does it?

_Flash!__Hahaha! Brrriiing, rrri - ! _

I gasped for breath as I woke up, my eyes searching the room wildly. I wasn't in the locker room. I was in the lab. I wasn't at work. I was in my room.

"It was all a dream… just a dream…" I closed my eyes, relaxed now that I knew I was safe. But my eyes shut open soon after to hear the faint words of a woman's voice.

"… the phone!" I threw myself out of bed, sprinting out of my room. I nearly slipped and fell on the tiled, kitchen floor, "Sara! Wait!" I threw myself at the counter and reached for the phone, pulling it to my face, "Sara! Hello? It's Greg!"

_Beep beep beep beep… beep beep beep beep… beep beep beep beep…_

"… DAMMIT!" I threw the phone on the floor with all my might. I watched it fall apart into pieces and stared at those pieces for a while, silently. I then stamped on them, taking out all my anger, then kicked the bulk of the phone against the furthest wall, "God, dammit! Damn it ALL. I actually wanted to talk to her this time!" I snarled and found myself on my couch, face down, performing dramatic sobs into my pillow.

That's when the phone rang again.

_Brrriiing, rrring! _… the phone!

_Brrriiing, rrring!_ I pushed myself off the couch and found the dismantled phone on the floor. I scrambled to pick it up.

_Brrriiing, rrring!_ I pressed the 'talk' button, in hopes it would still work.

"Sara?"


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"Uh, no, Greg… this is Nick." My heart sunk. I really did miss Sara's call. On top of that, the guy who doesn't understand me called. Is this "Pick on Greg Day" or something? Did I miss the memo?

After a long pause, I finally calmed myself down and responded: "Oh."

"Sorry to disappoint you…" I didn't respond. Your jokes aren't funny, Nick. He noticed I wasn't going to respond, so he continued, "Look, I want to apologize about everything, but I don't want to do it on the phone. It's a bit impersonal, and I just don't think it would mean as much compared to, let's say… some early dinner?"

"Early dinner?" I looked at the clock. It was almost five o'clock. Was I asleep for that long?

"Yeah. Just you, Catherine and I. We don't like the fact that you're upset, Greg. It hurts us more than you know."

"… I don't know…"

"Look, I know you haven't been eating anything. Or, at least, I know I'd be too angry to. Dinner's on us. Don't worry about it."

"You think I care about the price of food? About paying?" I couldn't believe him.

"No! No, aw, Greg. This isn't coming out right. Just meet us at the diner, please? Catherine and I already reserved a table: you know, the one by the window, where we all used to sit. For good time's sake."

"… I'll be there in half an hour."

I was true to my word, no matter how bitter I was. I figured I wouldn't be any better than them if I didn't give them a chance, and I didn't want to stoop down so low.

When I got to the diner, it was five twenty eight. Two minutes early. I was debating whether to walk in or not. If I did walk in, and they weren't there, that would prove to be embarrassing on their part. They're the ones proposing the dinner, and I'd've beat them to it. A part of me would feel triumphant and superior, if they weren't inside already; but at the same time, I'd feel disappointed and sad. A part of me is really looking forward to this meeting.

I glanced down at my watch again. Too late to go in early now. Technically, at five thirty one, I was late. I sighed and, stuffing my hands in my coat pockets, I stepped inside the diner.

The place was still quite crowded; I'd like to say it was even more crowded than yesterday, when I had met Warrick here. Must be because of the holiday season jumping on us. It was mid-December after all.

Repeating my plan of snaking my way through the crowd as yesterday, my feet were stepped on twice as much. I thought it was only a one day thing, but I forgot that the holiday season also tends to bring the rudeness out in people more.

"Greg!" I turned my head towards the call. Sounded like Catherine, but I couldn't see Catherine. This place was definitely more crowded than yesterday. "Greg!" I heard her call again. I got on my tip toes and peered around. If she could see me, I should be able to see her… but my reasoning wasn't working out as how I thought it would, so I started hopping.

"Greggo, over here! Hahaha…" I heard Nick's laughter more clearly, and I saw a hand erupt from the midst of the crowd, waving to me. It looked like Nick's hand.

Don't ask me how I knew that.

"Hey guys…" I nearly fell onto my cushioned seat trying to get myself out of the crowd. I was welcomed with a pair of smiling faces, and they looked pretty genuine to me. So genuine, they made me smile back at them. Smiles are contagious when they're true.

"Greggo, what took you so long?" Nick started, a waiter coming by setting menus all around.

"I had to trudge up hill, through the crowd, my feet being pummeled the entire way," I joked as I picked up my menu. The smiles on Nick and Cath's faces only grew bigger. My eyes scanned the dinners' prices; if I'm not paying, I'm getting the most expensive, appealing thing on the menu. I looked over the top of my menu and realized they hadn't picked up their menus yet. No, they weren't staring at me, but I could tell they were thinking about me.

"So… you wanted to talk?" I started smoothly, returning my gaze to my menu.

"Y-yeah, Greg. We need. We really don't know how to express how badly we feel about what we did to you, and no matter how many times we say it, we feel terrible knowing you're still angry at us." Nick twiddled his thumbs on the table, his eyes shifting between his thumbs and me.

"Of course." I took a sip of my water. This reply got Nick and Cath to exchange guilty glances.

"So you are still angry at us…" Nick repeated, just to confirm. I nodded, not tearing my eyes away from my menu.

"Mhm. Ooof course." I flipped the menu over. Desserts…

"Is there anything we can do, Greg? Anything at all? Let you take revenge on us somehow – " Catherine started, but I interrupted her with the shake of my head.

"None of that," I set my menu down on the table and laced my fingers together. I looked at them in the eyes, or at least I tried to – my eyes had to shift between the different pairs, "All I want is acknowledgement of your major boo-boo."

"… what?" Catherine shook her head. I don't think she understood.

"A genuine 'sorry,' and a promise to never do anything like it, at all, ever – EVER again." They looked at me funny, they looked at each other funny, they looked funny.

"That's it?" Catherine sputtered out, a little rudely, if I may add, "An 'I'm sorry, I swear I'll never do it again'?"

"Mhm." I pursed my lips and nodded, "I don't want material goods, or to seek out revenge. C'mon, guys. I'm a little more mature than that. This is Greg Sanders we're talking about here."

"Yeah," laughed Nick, "that's why I'm having a hard time believing it." He caught the joke, and we all shared a second of chuckling: "ha ha ha"s and "he he he"s and "ho ho ho"s. After that, there was a moment of silence.

"Well, I'm sorry, Greg. Truly am." Nick started. Apparently he thought he was finished, because he looked at me expectantly.

"And…?" I edged him on.

"Oh, and I'll never do anything like it again."

"You swear…"

"Haha, okay. I _swear_ I'll never do anything like it again."

"Heh, what he said," Catherine smiled and took a sip of her water. That's Nick and Catherine for you, and I was all right with that. I'm a trusting guy when it comes to my friends, which I hate to say because that's what got me hurt in the first place. But there's nothing I could really do, but trust them. Sometimes, that's all you're in a position to do. I think that's what a man would do.

"So…" Nick opened up his menu, "Does that mean that you're paying for your dinner tonight?"

"Hah! In your dreams…" I shot back, joining in a bout of laughs as the waiter came to take our orders. I told the waiter what I wanted, the two pound, New York Steak – made in Las Vegas by, most likely, Las Vegas natives, go figure. As Catherine was picking her dish from the menu, I turned to look outside the window, a huge smile on my face.

My eyes fell on a couple getting out of their car; the man speeding around it to open the door for his girl. He helped her out, pulling her to him in an embrace; you could tell they were laughing from far away. I turned away, a softer smile on my face, spacing out a little at the fork in front of Catherine's plate. The chatter in the diner seemed to dim for the while that I stared at that fork, not really knowing that I was. It's the window thing again.

"Hey Greggo! What do you want to drink?" I heard Nick's voice prod at my ears. I looked up at him, and the smiles he and Catherine shared reflected onto my face again.

"Uh… give me a vanilla shake."

"You all right, Greg?" Catherine asked me kindly. I gave my old, signature grin, and then they both knew that I was all right, and the me they've grown accustomed to over the years.

"'Tis the season to be jolly…"


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

I arrived at work with Nick and Catherine at around seven. I enjoyed my dish very much, and being the amazing guy I was, I paid the tip. It's more than you think, nowadays, when you have to calculate how many people were served, how much everything cost, the tax in your area…

Okay, maybe I over calculated. It's either the number of people served or the tax in the area that doesn't matter…

When I stood in the elevator, waiting to get to our floor, I was just hoping that no drama would happen. I hoped that no one in the lab would treat me out of the ordinary. I didn't want any awkwardness, not anymore.

Luckily, I found that upon walking to the locker room with Nick and Catherine in front of me, all I got was a "hey Greg!" from those walking by us; of course they didn't just say that to me, I acknowledged Nick and Catherine too. I grinned… this felt like it was going to be a good day!

Until I rounded the corner. Someone threw an egg at me. I stood there, shocked, speechless, as I heard Nick and Catherine yelling at the guy, pulling out their guns and shooting at him.

Hah! Just kidding. Oh, it was a good day…

Upon entering the locker room, I half expected there to be a Sara with Warrick's face, but there wasn't. There was only Warrick.

"Hey guys, how's it going?"

"Pretty good," I chirped, "Pret-ty good…" I swung around and started opening my locker, "Haha, you know you guys, I had this hilarious dream this afternoon."

"This afternoon?" Catherine took off her jacket and placed it in her locker.

"Yeah, I took a nap – but anyway, it was the most surreal thing I've ever dreamt. You were all in it!" I laughed, remembering everything that had happened.

"Really?" Nick grinned, "Was Warrick your maiden in distress?"

"You got it backwards, that's your role, remember, Nick?" Warrick shot back jokingly.

"Actually, Nick, you were on fire. Like, literally, _on fire._"

"Oh…" Nick managed to say; I could tell he was disappointed.

"Do go on…" Warrick encouraged me, so I did.

"Well, I'm walking by myself through the hallway, and out Nick comes, on fire, running perpendicular to me, screaming for help. It was pretty amusing, watching a massive, ball of fire zoom back and forth in a frenzy."

"Thanks, Greg."

"Anytime, Nick! Anyway, Hodges comes over, and we laugh together."

"Can't say I didn't deserve it…" Nick raises a foot onto the bench and starts retying his shoelaces. Him and his shoelaces…

"Yeah, and then Catherine comes along with a can of whipped cream, instead of a fire extinguisher! And you know what? The cream got rid of the fire like _that!_" I snapped, grinning so wide, it was contagious to even Nick.

"I cooled Nick off… with a can of whipped cream."

"Sure did; then you and Nick talked about how last week, when he was on fire, you used a fire extinguisher, and it only made it worse."

"Wait – how many times was I set on fire?" Nick looked up at me from his shoes. Warrick laughed and finished applying deodorant, putting it back in his locker.

"Apparently not enough times to learn. Then what happened, Greg?"

"Well, Cath came over to me and pulled me aside; apparently, for my birthday, you guys brought Sara back to Las Vegas." I laughed at the whole idea, but this time I wasn't sharing them with anybody. Nick stopped tying his shoelaces, Warrick and Catherine exchanged glances with each other, and not a remote peep of a chuckle. I sort of ignored this, and continued, "So I asked, 'Where is she?' 'She should be somewhere in the lab,' you answered back, Cath, and I just sped off for the longest time, running around the lab in search of her. The last place I checked was in here, and I did find Sara… but it was Sara's body with Warrick's face!" I closed my locker, turned around and leaned against it, "How funny is that, guys? Sara? Warrick's face? Ah? Ah?"

Not even the gloomiest of the gloomy could get the smile off my face. Nick gave up tying his laces altogether; Catherine sat down on the bench, looking up at me, and Warrick scratched the tip of his nose, while leaning against the opposite wall of lockers.

"Have you… thought about talking to Grissom about Sara being gone?" Catherine opened up. I looked down at her, my grin slowly disappearing. By the time I answered, it was reduced to a neutral mouth.

"Wh-why do you ask?"

"I think it would do you some good, Greg. I honestly do." Catherine said softly, "I'm not trying to make you feel better behind your back, now, Greg. I'm looking after you. I really think it would be a good idea."

"I agree," Nick broke in, "I know you probably blame him for Sara leaving in the first place, but it wouldn't hurt to talk to him about it. As much as I don't want to tell you, the amount you care for her is probably equal to how much Grissom does."

"If you did what I recommended you do," Warrick cleared his throat. I got the hint: the psychiatrist, "You could follow any advice that gave you, if any at all…"

I thought about it for a second. What did Dr. Shimmon tell me? He said to talk to Grissom, and… something else. Whatever. I'm still having a hard time believing that I should trust a guy who has Hello Kitty for brains.

"I don't think so…" I shook my head, my arms crossed, "I just don't have a good feeling about it." Right then my cell phone rang, or – er, vibrated. We were at work: _Bzzzt-zzzm!_

_Bzzzt-zzzm!_ I looked at everyone, "Excuse me…"

_Bzzzt-zzzm! _I took the phone out of my back, left pocket and looked at the caller ID.

_Bzzzt-zzzm! _"Ho my God!" I dropped the phone on the floor and jumped. I nearly made everyone in the room jump due to my sudden outburst.

_Bzzzt-zzzm!_ "It's Sara, isn't it?" Warrick asked angrily, "Just answer it!"

_Bzzzt-zzzm!_ "No way!"

"Here you go…" Nick had picked up the phone and was now handing it to me.

"Ah – uh – er…" quickly, out of hesitation, I snatched the phone out of Nick's hand and ran out of the locker room, flipping my phone open and holding it to my face, just as it let out it's last _Bzzzt-zz --!_

"Sara?" I pleaded, and I was answered with the polyphonic melody of my phone telling me I had one missed call. I stood there for a while, unable to decide where I was going to go from there. I hung up and stared blankly at the glass wall in front of me. Not at the people _through _the glass, but _at _the glass.

"Greg?" Catherine called from inside the locker room.

"Dammit!" I shouted, and kicked a metal trash can that was initially behind me. I ran my fingers up through my hair. This is ridiculous! If Sara hadn't left, I wouldn't be acting like this. I wouldn't be acting like a psycho-maniac who needs drugs, or was on them. I wouldn't feel so empty; like my coffee mug earlier: I'm half-empty.

Sharply, I briskly walked down the hall, angrily stamping my feet against the floor. I pardoned myself with harsh "excuse me"s as I pushed past people. Only one thing was on my mind. Just one thing, and I needed to set it straight. I needed to let Grissom know how much of a jerk he was for letting Sara leave.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"Hello, Greg…" Grissom welcomed me as I stood inside his doorway. My chest heaved with anger. He looked up at me from his desk, peering above his glasses, leaning over some files. I stared him down.

It's then that I realized I didn't know how I was going to start disheartening him. I took in a deep breath through my nose, my whole body felt tense. His eyes never went off me as he then leaned back in his chair. I couldn't make him wait too long for an answer, otherwise my impression would seem weak, and like a joke. So, I said the first thing that came to mind:

"I hate you." Wow, Sanders. Good one… you have him shaking in his boots.

"… I'm sure I deserve that." Grissom gave a small nod.

"Yeah? And you know what el—what?" he caught me off guard. Damn, Sanders. Stay on your toes! "Of course you do!"

"You here to talk?" I took a deep breath to calm myself down.

"Yes."

"Have a seat…" I debated taking the offer. I liked the height I had on him standing up, but I felt that would be too condescending and "unfair" in a way. I took the seat across his desk, rotating a little in it. Best we keep all the variables equal, and our only weapons our tongues.

"Well. What did you want to talk about?" I leaned back in my seat, trying to contain my temper for as long as I could; makes for better conversation. On a side note, it was quite a comfy chair.

"Just wanted to tell you you've been doing a good job here at work, Greg," he spoke with a small smile, "I want you to know that. These past couple of weeks have been really trying on you."

"Oh, come on, Grissom! What do you _really _have to say to me?" He didn't answer me back, so I took it as an offense, "No 'I'm sorry I messed up your life, Greg,' or a 'Please forgive my poor judgment—'?"

"My 'poor judgment'?" he squinted his eyes. I hate it when he does that. I feel like he's analyzing me through a microscope.

"Yeah! How could you let this happen?" I felt my blood start to boil; I leaned forward in my seat, my forearms on the table, "I don't understand how you could let her go! Sara throws her love at you, and you let it slip through your fingers…" I shook my head, and said much quieter, but with even more sharpness, "It disgusts me."

"Greg –"

"You're disgusting. I don't know how you could let as beautiful a soul as Sara go! If _that_ isn't poor judgment, then I don't know what is!"

"She needed to get away from everything…" he recoiled softly, but with a small hint of regret.

"Oh yeah. I believe her. If I were dating you, I'd probably want to get away from your blind eye as well!" I think I was sinking pretty low, but I didn't care, I needed to get this frustration out now in increments before I exploded, "How could you not see how affected she was getting from her job? Or if you did take notice, why'd you shrug it off and not pay any attention to it? How could you _not comfort her?_" My voice was on the edge of being categorized as yelling – still not there yet.

"She needed space, Greg. I gave it to her. Sometimes you have to wait things out."

"Yeah? Well sometimes, when you wait too long, the opportunity goes out the window. You're not very good at understanding how people 'work,' Grissom; in case you haven't noticed."

There was a cold silence between the two of us. During this time, my shaking eyes never left Grissom's face. Grissom took off his glasses and held one of its arms to his lips, tapping them and thinking. I was making him think. That was an accomplishment in itself.

"You know, Greg…" he started, "I think you're right." I grinned at this remark proudly. How many times have I heard people tell me that? But the grin faded as quickly as it had came, "I'm not very good at deciphering how people think –"

"Even your word choice! 'Deciphering…' Like people are puzzles to be solved. A code to crack. How insensitive, as if the people you work with and see everyday are nothing greater than the puzzles in the newspaper: the latest crossword puzzle, anagram, sudoku!" I was about to explode.

"I won't deny it, I have a hard time with people in general. But we seem to be going off topic; you were wrong about one thing, Greg."

"Yeah? And what's that?"

"I haven't lost my 'opportunity.'"

"I think we have two different meanings to this 'opportunity.'" I licked my lips, they were becoming drier by the second, "define yours."

"Sara's love. Yours?"

"A chance with Sara."

"Basically the same thing."

"I guess…"

"Although Sara and I are far apart, we still try and contact each other –"

"Through emails," I ended his sentence for him bitterly, leaning back in my seat, "I know…" Grissom didn't take time to linger on it, and continued what he wanted to say.

"Despite what most say, love isn't entirely a physical thing, but a mental and spiritual relationship," Grissom leaned forward, sitting on the edge of his seat, "Sara still loves me."

"And I still love Sara." I snapped. My eyes were big and cold, staring at his hands on the table. I could dig holes through those hands if I stared long enough. I'd have to be staring for a long time, because my eyes were now starting to tear up. Grissom's hands have become my new window.

"…I miss her too, Greg." Grissom said kindly, handing me a tissue box.

"If you miss her so much, why don't you go after her?" I sniffed and blew my nose. That was one thing I never understood. If Grissom loves Sara as much as I do, and more, why doesn't he do something? Anything?

"Why don't you?" I looked up at him with the tissue still encasing my nose. Pulling it away, I sniffed again and thought. A real man would run after her… he'd chase after the woman he loves, and try to set things right, "I'm still here probably because of the same reason you are," he finished. I swallowed my spit and shook my head.

"No… no, I don't think so."

"Why're you still here?" I averted my eyes from Grissom's face, still gazing at my window. I thought about that… why was I still here? I thought deeply about the matter, and then I realized why I was acting so weird. Why I was too shy to answer Sara's phone calls, frustrated with my coworkers, even when they tried to help, why I was unable to let the whole matter go. My stare was broken by Grissom moving his hands to beneath the table, on his lap I'm guessing. I stared him hard in the eyes, and took a deep breath through my nose.

"Because of you."

"I… don't understand."

"She loves you, Grissom. I can't touch her…" I looked down at the tissue in my hands with great remorse. It hurt to admit that, "With all the connections you guys have with each other, she obviously cares about you more; the email – "

"Emails are impersonal." He interrupted, to make a point. I stammered and continued on.

"W-well, with the phone calls, why all I've been getting are phone calls that I'm too late to catch –"

"She's calling you?" he asked me in a surprised tone. I raised a brow and nodded.

"Yeah… she's been calling me for the past couple of days now. She just called me like…" I opened my phone in an attempt to see how long ago she called, but gave up because it wasn't worth it, "five, ten minutes ago."

"… she hasn't been calling me…" his gaze lowered to his clipboard resting on his desk. I knew that look all too well. The clipboard had become Grissom's window, and I think it served as his window more often than I thought.

If the two of us have been interpreting this situation the same way, Sara's been trying harder to remain in contact with me than with Grissom.

"Do you know why she hasn't called you?" I asked him, honestly curious and kindly.

"We both know that the cost for long-distance calls would be a burden, and I'm unavailable half the time… I don't know what her schedule is like…"

"Money doesn't mean a thing when you're in love…" I said softly to myself. Grissom looked up at me and leaned forward.

"What did you say?"

"Huh?" I shook my head, "Nothing! Nothing. Nothing…" It was then that a conversation I had had with Nick earlier today over the phone come back to me, did the gears in my head really start to turn. Money? I don't care about money. I don't care about the cost of things.

I realized then that, between the two of us – Grissom and I –, I was the better man for Sara; however discreetly or unintentionally she sent the vibe to me, or if I was interpreting this feeling correctly, I didn't care. What I did care about was setting things right, and if Grissom wasn't going to do it, then I was.

I looked up at him, squarely in the eyes, a small smirk creeping onto my face, "I'm going to see Sara…" And with that I swung the chair around one eighty degrees and pushed myself off the chair and towards the doorway.

"What?" I left a confused Grissom behind the desk. I turned around, as I continued walking backwards out the door, and waved to him.

"I'm going to see Sara!" I shouted with a grin, a happy yelp, and skipped down the hallway back to the locker room, laughing all the way. It was then that I confirmed that I was truly insane.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"Hey Greggo! What's the rush?" I heard Nick yell after me, "You all right? You gave us a scare a while ago! Greg? Greg!" I turned around and started jogging backwards. I could not feel any more pumped up!

"I'm PERFECT!" And that wasn't sarcastic.

"Did you talk to Grissom?" Warrick yelled after me, my image getting smaller to them as I neared the end of the hallway.

"Yeah!"

"What happened?" Catherine called after me; I could tell she was baffled by my extreme change in moods.

"Nothing bad, I can tell you that!" I laughed and gave them the thumbs up.

"Where're you going?" Catherine leaned forward a little, as if it would make me be any closer to her. I could hear her just fine.

"I'm going to San Francisco! Hahaha- oof!" I bumped against the end of the hall and smoothly turned on my heel, skipping down the rest of the way out of the building. I started whistling a random tune, suddenly stopping in my tracks, "… I should empty my locker of things I'll want to take on my trip…"

So I skipped back, as jolly as can be, finding the gang on the bench. I think they were talking about me. Okay, I know they were talking about me.

"Change your mind already? Boy, aren't you a swingy little thing today…" Warrick commented. I paused trying to unlock my lock and stared at him.

"Careful, Warrick. I can kill for other reasons…" I smirked. Warrick gave a sly smile and shrugged it off.

"You're going to San Francisco?" Nick asked incredulously as I opened my locker. I found the box of chocolates I had received the day I was in the hospital. Wow… that day feels like it was so long ago. Wouldn't you say the same?

"Yup!" I held the box under my arm and sorted through everything else in my locker; nothing else seemed to appeal to me to be important enough to take – just a few dirty shirts and an old energy bar wrapper. I picked that up and wrinkled my nose at it – I should throw that away.

"Why?"

"To see Sara, of course!" I smiled, and started humming a random Christmas carol.

"Do you know where she lives…?" Catherine also wrinkled a nose at the wrapper I humbly threw away in the garbage can I had made a dent in earlier.

"No… but that's not stopping me – "

"Are you so sure about this, Greggo?" Nick asked, with just a small hint of worry in his voice.

Okay, that was sarcastic; but his great attention to this matter, and what sounded like trying to impose doubt upon me and my choice, was getting on my nerves. You know how that is: when you want to do something, and you're sure of it, but there's always one thing that keeps prodding at you, to make you change your mind. The worst part is, the majority of the time you do end up changing your mind – and I just didn't want that happening to me. Not this time.

"I couldn't be surer. I'll find her. Even if it takes me a few years…" I closed my locker and bid them all adieu, and started striding off energetically to my car to get home. Before I left the building, I received a text message:

Sender: Nick Stokes

Date: 20:42 December 13, 2007

Subject: Don't forget to send us a postcard:) Have fun, Greg. You'll be missed.

Aah… Nick and your smiley faces. You make me laugh.

* * *

I decided to make one quick stop before I went to my house, though. 

_Knock, knock, knock._

I stood in the room that smelled of fabric softener and lemons, bouncing with great excitement on the balls of my feet. It didn't take too long for Dr. Shimmon to open the door.

"… why hello, Mr. Sanders – "

"Greg!" I grinned.

"… Greg. Great to see you at this lovely hour." I could tell he was sarcastic, "Although I have to say I'm sorry. I seem to have run out of sugar as well –"

"I don't care about sugar -- something even sweeter! I'm going to see Sara!" I shouted in great joy, not caring that I broke him off. I wasn't even shocked that I hugged him in impulse, although I couldn't say the same for him.

"Uuuh…" he blabbered, utterly confused and stiff, "So you decided to take my advice…" he recovered.

"Sure did!" I pulled away, my grin still growing on my face, "Thanks for pointing me in the right direction, Doc! I think this'll be a life changing experience for me." I pulled away from the hug, a huge grin on my face.

"Glad to hear you're happy, and not thinking I'm weird. Trust me… enough people do already."

"Haha, I think I can say the same for myself. I've been berserk lately."

"Did you talk to your boss, too?"

"Ah…" my grin diminished, until a small smile was left. What a quick turn of topics, "Yeah… yeah, I did."

"It went well?" he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway.

"I… think it went all right…" I let my voice trail on a few words, trying to determine for myself how the meeting really went: it wasn't amazing, but we weren't killing each other. I think that's the definition of "all right."

He just smiled at me and nodded, "If you need any more help, I'm a phone call away. Enjoy your trip to the City by the Bay, Greg." And with a small wave, he slowly closed the door in my face. I stood grinning, facing the closed door for who knows how long – I didn't seem to realize he had closed it. When I did, I leaned up against the door and shouted into it:

"Thank you, Dr. Shimmon!" and as I turned to leave, I was hit in the back of the head with a pillow, it felt like. I turned around to see the door still closed, but looked around to see what had hit me; at my feet laid a Hello Kitty doll on its stomach. A grin crept onto my face as I kneeled down to pick it up. Upon lifting it, I saw it was carrying a letter, and on the letter was scrawled a message from the Doc to me:

"744.6666 -- Good luck and you're welcome."

* * *

When I got home I immediately went for the large black suitcase at the very top of my closet. I threw it open onto my bed and started cramming it with clothes: my favorite clothes, my clean clothes, my random clothes… I just wanted to fill it. Of course, I made sure I had the necessities – like underwear and socks. 

After I had packed my clothes, I ran into my bathroom and opened the makeshift cupboard-mirror. I literally swiped in everything on ever shelf into a plastic bag, leaving it open and bare when I ran out of the bathroom. I threw this plastic bag into my suitcase as well.

I then fell to my knees and reached under my bed. I felt around for a personal bag I could take with me as I sat in the plane – which is when I remembered:

"Aw, man. I have to buy the ticket!" I ran to my laptop resting on my desk and quickly searched up "cheapest airline tickets going to San Francisco from the Las Vegas International Airport as soon as possible," give or take a few words, "C'mon, c'mon…" I drummed my fingers on my desk, not even giving myself the luxury of sitting down in my swivel chair. Search results came up, and I clicked on the soonest one available.

"Tomorrow at… one o'clock in the AM. Five hundred dollars – all right, I'll take it!" I clicked on it and fudged around my pants for my wallet.

After the long ordeal of buying my ticket, I made sure I placed my receipt in my wallet. Wallet… passport! Desk drawers! I opened most, if not all, the drawers of my desk, finding my passport in the closest one to me. That wasn't so bad. I looked at my laptop, debating if I should take it as well; I subconsciously unplugged it, so I therefore decided I'd be taking it with me. Better put that in my personal bag…

At ten o'clock, I found I was fully packed and ready to go! I had triple checked that I had everything, and even made a list. Boy was I excited to go! With a warm coat covering my torso, and a stylish hat sitting on my head, I slung my personal bag around my chest and carried my suitcase – Hello Kitty's head protruding slightly from it -- out the door, "Sara, here I come!"

Once I was outside, I pulled out my phone to call a taxi; I soon found that wasn't necessary when I was being honked at. I looked across the street and saw a hand waving at me.

"Get in here!" the man beckoned; normally, I'd be suspicious of such a call, but I was flattered by the help and the thought. I ran to the car, given as fast and as clumsy as I could with my luggage, and threw my stuff in the trunk. I jumped into the front passenger seat and buckled myself in.

"Why Nick, didn't expect you to be here…"

"Trust me, until half an hour ago I didn't think I would be either. Given the night off."

"Oh, really?" I grinned, "Or did you say you had suddenly fallen ill?"

"Let's keep that story between us two, okay?" he laughed.

"How'd you know I'd be leaving now?"

"I actually didn't. I knew you were leaving A-SAP, so I decided I'd camp out here, and wait for you to leave your house. Least I could do before you go."

"Awfully nice of you, Nick. How long have you been here?"

"About…" he looked at his watch and twisted his mouth, "Fourty two seconds."

I grinned back and looked out the window at my apartment complex. I didn't know when I'd see that building again. A part of me was going to miss it dearly, but another side just couldn't wait to get away. I moved my gaze through the window by my side as Nick drove away and onto the freeway.

* * *

"Hey, thanks Nick, for the ride." I leaned forward and down, to speak into the open window, now being outside of the car and with my luggage in front of the airport. 

"Think nothing of it, buddy," he raised his hand in an acknowledging manner, "Just promise me one thing."

"What's that?" I squinted. It was pretty cold out here, the wind was getting to me.

"Have fun, and keep in touch! With all of us. Not just your buddy Hodges, okay?"

"Haha… I promise Nick." I smiled. Nick smiled back and was about to drive off, but I stuck my hand through the open window to gain his attention again, "Oh wait!"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for understanding. To be honest, I didn't think you'd be able to…" I felt pretty bad about telling him my honest opinion, but I wouldn't be a man for lying to him. Nick gave a soft smile and a small nod.

"I had a little help. You can thank Warrick for that. And when you pulverized me in the parking lot – with your words I mean. We all know if it were a fist fight who'd win."

"Now you're just over-flattering me!" we laughed. I was being serious, but I think he thought I was joking. Hmm…

"Take care, Greg."

"You too, Nick…" we shook hands, as gentlemen, before he drove off. I stood for a little while longer outside, watching his car disappear into the traffic. I sighed, watching my breath become visible as vapor. This calm and relaxed feeling ended when I looked down at my watch, seeing it was almost eleven o'clock. Call time was two hours early, right? I swung my personal bag onto my back and threw my luggage on a trolley, storming inside. I knew after all the hectic atmosphere I'd be able to relax in San Francisco.

Or at least… after I found Sara, anyway.

To Be Continued…

* * *

**Author's Note: **All right! And here ends Part One of Greg's tale. Part Two will begin... well, next year for sure. I'm going to take a slight break, to outline the fic, to get my ideas down, and to rest my brain. I hope you all enjoyed this story, and will hang around for the sequel to come! A big "THANK YOU" to everyone who has been with my from the start, the middle, the end, viewed, commented, or clicked on accident. You've been awesome, and I hope I returned the favor through my writing. 

Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year:D

**The sequel has begun! "A Man's Ambition" is up; go pay it a visit if you please.**


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